


Insane

by prideinlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bisexual Harry, Bisexual Louis, BoyxBoy, Enemies to Lovers, Halloween, Harry is the definition of an asshole, Horror, Louis also curses in like every sentence, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Asylum, Party, Rivalry, Sassy Louis, Truth or Dare, honestly, look up 'asshole' in the au dictionary and you get a picture of harry, louis gets really scared easily, obnoxious harry, psychiatric hospital, the f word is his favorite word, they secretly are crushing on each other but don't want to admit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11349828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prideinlou/pseuds/prideinlou
Summary: ❝ Did you hear that? ❞Truth or dare is said to be a fun, innocent game played among children and young adults at parties or with friends, so no one expected two high-school boys live's to be at risk all because of one stupid dare.Or in which Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are two dim-witted, drunk teenage boys that take a Halloween night dare too far, and end up in a life or death situation in the clutches of a haunted mental asylum.Will they make it out alive... or will they go insane?





	1. Beginning

The _Daily News_ Online

 **TWO TEENS FOUND DEAD IN WOODLANDS PARK, TWO YEARS AFTER THE CLOSING OF WARRINGTON PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL**  
October 31, 1989

_by, Barbara Walters  
journalist_

The Holmes Chapel Police Department just identified the two teenagers found dead in Woodlands Park, near Warrington Psychiatric Hospital on Brookfield Drive, late last night.

Warrington Psychiatric Hospital, known to the public as Warrington Insane Asylum, has been closed down for over two years. Throughout it's five decades in operation, Warrington was found responsible for the covering of over one thousand deaths inside it's walls. Ever since the hospital's closing in 1987, investigators have been looking into the practices in Warrington, that resulted in these horrendous deaths.

Friends reported that the two teenagers went to Woodlands Park to add some excitement to that normal Halloween night, but never returned.

18 year old Connor Franta told officers on scene that he had spoken to 17 year old Troye Sivan Mellet and 19 year old Tyler Oakley several minutes before Oakley's phone disconnected. The two were found dead 15 minutes later by Franta, Alfie Deyes, and Marcus Butler, who went frantically searching for their two friends.

[video]

Connor Franta:  
❝ I, I um... I was on the phone with Tyler while he and his boyfriend, Troye, were out to see if Woodlands Park really _is_ haunted, or if all that is just rubbish. Troye had never been the type to investigate in that type of stuff, g-ghosts and all, neither were we, but being Tyler's boyfriend, he was subjected to following Tyler's curiosity.

I remember hearing Tyler telling Troye to "cut his whining" and that "Woodlands is not scary." Seconds after he said those words, the call suddenly ended, and I could've sworn I heard a high pitched scream that I know for a fact belonged to Troye.

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard that scream. All I could think about is my best mates might be in trouble. He wouldn't scream if something wasn't wrong. Not like that. Not in such an aghast way. That's not the Troye I kn-know. I quickly tried to, to call back, not even being able to hold the phone because I was shaking so *beep* hard. His scream echoed through my head as my heart raced when the call went straight to voicemail. Alfie suggested I call Troye, b-because maybe Tyler was p-playing a joke on us. They-They wouldn't *beep* banter like this, they *beep* wouldn't.

Once again, I-I... I got no answer. No *beep* answer. They wouldn't *beep* do this. I felt so nauseous, I couldn't stand, my entire head was taken over by the horrified scream that came from my best friend.

I quickly called the police, but I could barely speak to them, Marcus had to take over. What if something terrible happened to them. Bloody hell, they are my b-best friends. Oh God. I. *Beep*

Despite being told to stay put, I-I had Marcus and Alfie come with me to Woodlands. *Beep* sprinted there. I had to make sure that they are alright. Even if it was just some silly b-banter, I _had_ to know that they are safe. I wanted to walk up to that horrible place and find the smiling, laughing faces of my b-best friends. Was that so much to ask for? Them to be okay? *Beep.*

Maybe both their phones died, that had to be it. They wouldn't banter like that. Maybe they were on their way home, holding hands like they always did. Maybe. *Beep* maybe.

Th-then, I *beep* see my two best mates hanging from the largest tree in that God forsaken park, near that *beep* mental asylum, ropes t-tied tightly around their necks. B-Blood coming out of their *beep* eyes. *Beep.* I-I'm sorry.

Interviewer:  
❝ It's alright, dear, take your time. ❞

Connor Franta:  
❝ I felt s-so nauseous, I couldn't breathe. I-I think I puked, but, but, I can't remember. All I remember is their faces. They didn't look like my best friends anymore. M-Marcus found Tyler's phone smashed on the grass as police came and c-comforted us. On-on, the, the, fence behind them, written in blood, _their_ , blood w-was, " _I warned you._ " ❞

[end of video]

So, who was behind the brutal murder of the two innocent Holmes Chapel teenagers? What was their motive? And, is he still out there?

_Or it?_

> > > >

October 30, 2017  
_28 years later._

 _Drinking, sex, and drugs_.

It was just a silly game of _truth or dare_ at a normal Halloween party, until two unsuspecting teenage boys go into the abandoned mental hospital on Brookfield Drive, and they have no clue what they are getting themselves into.

Will they make it out alive, or will they go _insane_? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: June 29, 2017  
> edited: April 1, 2018
> 
> wattpad: prideinlou
> 
> currently in the process of being edited


	2. Chapter 2

The _Nottingham Evening Post_

 **TEEN GIRL FOUND DEAD IN WOODLANDS PARK.  
** January 26, 1977

 _by, Anderson Cooper_  
_independent journalist_

17 year old Taylor Allison Swift committed suicide Tuesday afternoon on January 26th, in Woodlands Park.

Swift was a patient at Warrington Psychiatric Hospital after the brutal stabbing of her 21 year old babysitter, Caroline Flack, back in 1974.

Since 1973, doctors at Warrington decided to allow patients into Woodlands Park every Tuesday and Thursday along side constant supervision of the hospital's therapists and armed guards.

Woodlands Park is adjacent to the hospital and behind the watch of its tall fences, making it accessible to the patients allowed outside.

Swift's therapist, 41 year old Dr. Jennifer Aniston, decided that allowing the teenager some fresh air to clear her mind would have a  lasting affect along side her ongoing treatment. For the past couple weeks, Swift had been supervised at Woodlands Park every Tuesday after her session with Dr. Aniston.

However, none of the onsite guards had noticed the hypodermic syringe full of Methadone that Swift had snuck out under her white gown this Tuesday. Once overdosing on this particular drug, that she happened to be severely allergic to, Swift's body immediately went into a state of anaphylactic shock, resulting in chest tightness, trouble breathing, and a seizure, which overall ended her life within five minutes.

[picture]

_12 year old Taylor Swift smiling happily along side her mother, Andrea Gardner Swift, and her father, Scott Kingsley Swift, while holding her cat, Olivia._

After an interview with BBC News, Mrs. Swift confronted the hospital for driving her daughter to commit suicide. Warrington administers refuse to comment on the statement.

Doctors and therapists at Warrington report they will be limiting patient's time in the neighboring park after the investigation.

More information to follow.

> > > >

October 31, 2017  
9:03 p.m.

" 'Scuse me, pardon me. I said, _excuse me, move the fuck outta my way_!" Louis huffed, pushing his way through the crowd of obnoxiously drunk and high teenagers that Halloween night in Holmes Chapel, with _Thriller_ by Michael Jackson blaring through the speakers.

It would be a misleading if Louis said nobody at the party was drunk, because just about everyone around him held a red Solo cup in hand, maybe even two, and their contents definitely weren't water.

Ed Sheeran, currently in year 13, covered in way too many meaningless tattoos, throws massive parties, and almost the entire student body of HCCS attend, getting drunk off their arses than having to bolt when one of Sheeran's neighbors tips off the police.

The 17 year old fixed the cat ears he was forced to wear before leaning against the magnolia painted wall by the large staircase, crossing his thin arms over his chest, looking around for his mates. These dickheads _better_ fucking be here, because them and their foolish bet are the reasons he is dressed up as a cat. A fucking _slutty cat._

The black skirt Eleanor Calder and her girlfriend, Danielle Campbell, had lent him barely covers his arse, which resulted in hungry stares from drunk, horny twats and constant woof whistling. And all that was followed by a knee in the balls and a lovely middle finger, both gifted by Louis.

The cat tail was annoying the fuck out of him and the ears kept falling down. He was getting sick and tired of pushing them back up. It just so happens that three inch heels are a royal pain in the arse to walk in, but thank _God_ Eleanor brought him his black Vans to change into later. Not to mention the three coats mascara and perfectly done winged black eyeliner were severely itching his eyes, but he was instructed by Danielle "not to touch" or that he will "get his arse kicked" if he screws up her masterpiece.

But, he kinda, _maybe_ , likes the outfit and how it makes him look fit... and maybe really hot, but don't tell the girls that.

"Aw, _baby_ , you look _so_ fucking cute!" Stanley Lucas fake squealed as he ran over to the younger and pinched his makeup covered cheeks. "Where are your heels from? Are they Gucci? I _need_ to get myself a pair, they are to _die_ for!"

Louis roughly pushed his hands away, narrowing his ocean blue eyes as the rose pink color on his cheeks got darker. If they ask, it's the makeup. "I honestly hate you so, so fucking much, twat," he mumbled, glaring at Stan and Zayn from behind the hair that fell in his eyes. "They are Eleanor's, so ask her if you wanna explore a bit. You'd be an ugly girl, though."

"Lou, honestly, you look hot," Gigi Hadid chimed in with an honest smile, bumping his hip with her own. He loves Gigi, a whole lot more than her dick of a boyfriend. He hates Zayn and his foolish bets. Stupid Zayn. "The red lipstick is a really nice touch, doll, did Dani do your makeup?"

Louis nodded.

"Well, well, well, someone is a feisty little kitten today, hm? Wanna lay out in the sun and have someone rub your tummy, kitty? Hm?" Zayn Malik snickered with a wide grin, wrapping his arm around Gigi's waist, taking a sip from his cup.

Wow. He _really_ hates Zayn. Obnoxious prick.

"I hope you two accidentally get shoved off a really high cliff."

> > > >  
9:20 p.m.

" _Officer_ Styles, truth or dare?" Nicholas Grimshaw grinned as he removed the mask Jason Voorhees wore in the movie, _Friday the 13th_ , placing it in his lap. He raised his brow as the small group in their circle turned their gaze to Harry Styles.

The teen rolled his eyes, unamused with the use of the term. "Truth." he finally replied with a nod as he took a sip of his drink.

"Are you still in love with Cara?"

Cara Delevingne was Harry's ex-girlfriend. She broke off their two year relationship after she found Harry with his face between Kendall Jenner's legs in the band room at their school three weeks ago.

Harry bit down on his bottom lip, suddenly intrigued by the liquid inside his cup. He then slowly licked his lips and shook his head. "No. No, I am not," he answered confidently, prior to spinning the vodka bottle in front of him, before anyone could bring up how he cheated on her. Well, it wasn't exactly a secret, what happened. In their school, stuff like that spreads like a wildfire– the entire school knew Harry cheated before lunch.

The bottle slowly decreased its speed then came to a halt. It had landed on Niall Horan, who was dressed as a sexy leprechaun, his bottle blonde hair almost completely hidden by the bright green top hat. The Irish lad was basically sitting on Liam Payne's lap as the two disgustingly made out.

"Horan!" Harry announced, leaning forward to snap his fingers in front of the couple.

Niall's attention snapped to Harry, his cheeks immediately heating up. Liam turned his attention to Niall's exposed milky, white neck, leaving a small purple bruise. "Y-yeah? Is it my turn, lads?"

Harry hummed, sitting back. "T or d?"

"Dare."

"Hm, alright. I dare you... to run down the street naked, singing _Single Ladies_ by Beyoncé." Harry nodded, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm _so_ in!" Niall smirked after finishing the rest of his beer in the bottle by Liam's leg. He stood up and stretched his legs, beginning to sing obnoxiously as he stripped of his costume, with everyone but Liam covering their eyes. A fully nude, singing Niall booked it outside into the cold night, their friend, Joshua Devine, laughing as he followed behind the lad with a camera.

"Ew, I saw his dick," Lucas Hemmings gagged, covering his face with his hands. "I need to burn my eyeballs now."

"Don't look next time, Hemmings. Then there won't be a problem."

"Shut up, Nick."

> > > >  
9:52 p.m.

Soon enough, the empty vodka bottle in the middle of the circle landed on Louis, and the culprit who gave it a spin was none other than Harry.

Harry and Louis, well, the two lads weren't, _aren't_ , exactly best mates. They have the same mate, and they hang with the same group, but the two never seemed to be able to get along– always at each other's throats over the most foolish things. So, you could say that Louis wasn't exactly very keen when he found Harry making out with his boyfriend back in year 11.

Harry Styles. He is your stereotypical, attractive, rich, and popular bloke. Both boys and girls fall to his feet, hoping to be in his bed for a least one night. He's also extremely intelligent, in _all_ A-levels this year, and to top off that, he is the varsity football captain.

On the other hand, you have Louis Tomlinson. The class-clown. The trouble maker. He was the one who could always make you laugh, no matter the circumstances. And according to his geography teacher, he "will never amount to anything."

Complete opposites. Louis is popular for all the opposite reasons Harry is. Harry grew up with people looking at him in a different way than they look at Louis.

But, don't opposites attract?

A sly smirk grew on the younger's face as he looked at the nervous lad in front of him. He took time to look over the slutty kitten costume the teen's curvy body was clad in. He actually looks... _hot_. Harry bit his lip and placed his hands in his lap to hide the slowly growing tent in his black skinny jeans. _Alright, little Styles, turn it down a tad. Think of grandmas and dead puppies._

"Okay, Louis. Truth or dare?"

Louis bit harshly on his bottom lip, enough to break the lipstick covered skin. Stan glanced over at him with a smirk, elbowing his side suggestively.

If he says "truth," Harry will have him spill an embarrassing secret in front of everyone, and if he takes "dare," then Harry has been granted free reign to dare Louis to do something illegal. Louis really, _really_ , doesn't need or want to be behind bars tonight.

"Dare," Louis whispered, hesitantly looking up at Harry, dainty hands pulling at the loose string from his black, thigh high socks.

"Hm, say that again, kitten? I couldn't hear you over the loud music," Harry said sweetly, leaning closer to the older boy.

"I said, _dare_ ," Louis snapped, flicking his fringe from in front of his eyes. Harry _always_ has to be a dramatic twat.

_Big mistake._

"I dare you, dear Louis, to go into the abandoned psych ward by that haunted park, at midnight. You know, where those two teenage boys died thirty years ago tonight." With every word he spoke, Harry's smirk grew wider. He then put on an innocent smile and lit the fag he was handed.

Louis went completely pale, swallowing thickly. He knew that case. Zayn and Calvin Rodgers wanted to take an Ouija board out there to talk to the two, but Louis refused to let them leave his flat in case they died and Louis had to be the one to break the news to their mums.

Louis _despises_ scary circumstances. He is quite petrified of ghosts, blood, clowns, zombies, the dark, and horror movies. And right now, this feels like a horror movie. One where the delusional teenager goes into a haunted house and is the first to get killed. That is him. He is the first to get killed in a horror movie.

Harry knows all this, he managed to dig his way in and find out all of Louis' fears. And right now, he is bundling them all up into a ball and hitting him right in the face with it. Hard. Harry seems to get some type of joy from holding it over his head, with a stupid grin on his face.

So, how the fuck does Harry expect him to go into a fucking _haunted_ mental _asylum_? On the scariest night of the fucking year? For Christ sake. What if something happens? What if he ends up like Troye and Tyler? He is too young to die.

Fucking prick. Has he mentioned how much he _hates_ the curly haired lad and that shit eating grin of his? Louis hopes Harry falls off that cliff with Zayn and Stan.

He can't do this. There is no way he is going to go through with this. He'd rather be humiliated for the next year then be six feet underground after being hung from a tree.

"C'mon, don't be a chicken, _kitten_. That attitude of yours will keep all the ghosts away," Harry snickered, giving him an smile. Fuck those perfect teeth of his. Fuck Harry. Fucking twat. The crowd around them continued to get bigger, with everyone's eyes focused on Louis.

Louis took a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He can't do this, he can't _fucking_ do this. "F-fine, I'll do it, happy, prick? I'll take your mother fucking dare." His answer only caused Harry to smirk wider as he took a long drag of his fag.

> > > >  
10:15 p.m.

Within five minutes, Louis' hand was on the bottle again after admitting that _yes_ , he _does_ watch gay porn from time to time. He's bisexual, give him a break. He spun the bottle around their circle, biting back his grin as it came to a halt on Harry.

He's definitely not going into that haunted insane asylum alone.

"Harry, t or d?" Louis asked casually, shifting in his spot and taking a sip of his fruity drink before resting his head on Gigi's shoulder, almost _purring_ when she pet his hair and lightly scratched his scalp. Has he mentioned he loves Gigi yet? Zayn doesn't deserve her, she is too good for that wanker.

"Ah, dare," Harry responded absentmindedly, not paying attention to the voice behind the question as he took his handcuffs back from a smirking Stan who had been attempting to handcuff Harry's and Bella Throne's wrists together.

"I dare you to come with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published on: June 30, 2017 with 1800 words  
> edited on: April 1, 2018 with 2358 words
> 
> wattpad: prideinlou


	3. Chapter 3

The _Daily News_

 **WARRINGTON— CURING THE INSANE, OR CREATING THEM?**  
April 19, 1980

_by, Barbara Walters_  
_journalist_

26 year old Shane Lee Dawson committed the remorseless murder of his 45 year old therapist, Dr. Angelina Jolie, this afternoon at Warrington Psychiatric Hospital in Holmes Chapel.

Cameras secretly concealed in her office, often used to calculate patient behavior, recorded the graphic murder. They confirm that as Dr. Jolie turned her back to her patient, Dawson, to retrieve the documents from his last evaluation, he grabbed the scissors he had been hiding under his gown, and viciously stabbed her a total of 24 times.

Dawson later confessed to officers that he had taken the scissors from her desk before the evaluation, and that he had been planning to kill her for months. He admitted to threatening her loved ones so she would stay quiet. One patient at Warrington reports that she had heard a scream coming from Dr. Jolie's office, but did not alert it to any of the nearby doctors because she assumed it was a resisting or scared patient.

Doctors and officials currently do not know how they will assess this case.

Dawson's court date is set for the end of May.

Further data to follow.

> > > >  
10:43 p.m.

"I can't fucking do this shit. Harry can go suck a dick."

"Oh, honey, he has, plenty of times. You should know, you found him sucking Aiden's in the school locker room," Stan grinned innocently, stretching his legs across Louis' lap, only to get them promptly shoved off by the other.

"Sod off. I could care less about Aiden. And Harry can just go deep throat another dick because their is absolutely no way I'm actually doing this," Louis told him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why don't ya just have him suck yours, hm? Bet you'd both enjoy that," Zayn chimed in from his lawn chair.

The trio of friends were currently lounging in Sheeran's large backyard, covered in blankets. They were only out to watch the free entertainment on the other side of the yard— intoxicated, idiotic souls who were jumping into Sheeran's in-ground pool. And while Calum Hood suggested they join, they insisted on keeping warm in front of the fire pit.

Louis gagged. "Fuck, Zee, I'd _never_ let Harry anywhere near me. N-e-v-e-r. No way. Nada. I may be bi, but I do have standards, high ones. And Harry Styles does not fit them in any way, shape, or form."

"Oh, Tommo, I can see you are stuck in the denial stage. Hm. You _know_ you want that dick of his in that plump ass of yours, even if it's just one night," Zayn snickered, winking at the older as he crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back into the chair with a smug grin.

Zayn knows for a fact that the Louis Tomlinson is crushing on the curly lad that goes by Harry Styles. He is basically obsessed with Harry's every move, but Louis claims to be doing "research" when Zayn found him stalking Harry's Instagram page last month.

"Oh bloody hell, Zayn. Oh my God. Honestly, fuck off. And, for your information, I'm definitely a top."

Stan snorted at that, choking on a crisp, so Zayn reached over and patted his friend's back as Louis just glared at them.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kitten, but that pretty little skirt of yours is telling me a different story," chuckled the hazel eyed teen.

"Tosh. Fuck you. _Now_ , can you two _please_ stop talking about your obsession with dicks and my sex life for a solid five fucking minutes so we can discuss the bigger problem here? In less than an hour, I have to go into a haunted mental asylum where I will probably die."

"Actually, I think the bigger problem is whether or not Harry's cock is gonna fit inside you. It's pretty big, so I've heard. Gonna need a wheelchair."

" _Stanley Lucas!"_

> > > >  
10:35 p.m.

"That's what you get, H. Karma fucked you right in the ass without a condom," Niall wiggled his eyebrows. He laughed obnoxiously from his spot on the love-seat when Harry shot him the middle finger.

"Ok, listen, wanker, I didn't think the prick would use my own dare against me, alright?" Harry mumbled, annoyed.

"Aw, my little Hazzie poo scared? I'll protect you," Nick cooed as he plopped himself down in Harry's lip. He licked his lips and gave the younger a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Harry immediately shoved the older to the ground, wiping his cheek off with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes. "Sod off, knob head."

"Don't worry, Haz. If we find you two dead, I'll make sure to take good care of your mum and Dusty for you," Liam added to the conversation from his spot next to Niall. He smiled sweetly at Harry, who had his navy blue shirt half unbuttoned, exposing his cross necklace. His police officer cap was still on top of his disorderly, chocolate brown curls, but the sunglasses he came in with were now on Niall's head.

" _Wow_! Thanks Liam. You are such a great mate, I really appreciate it, the world needs more people like you," came the sarcastic reply.

> > > >  
11:12 p.m.

"Nope, not happening, nada, zilch, nein, non," Louis whined dramatically as he gradually made his way around the living area. Although he had never been extremely religious like his nan, he was two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging God, Jesus, and everyone else up there that this is some twisted nightmare and that he is going to wake up any second in the safety of his own bed. There is no way real life Louis is stupid enough to accept this dare.

"Sorry, baby, you needa get over your fear sometime, why not let today be the day?" Stan shrugged, messing with Louis' hair.

"I don't condone this at all. What if he seriously gets hurt, lads? You all know of the Oakley Sivan case, this is starting to sound too much like it. I don't like this. This isn't safe," Gigi interjected with a worried frown. She walked over to hug her nervous mate, who latched onto her waist and hid his face in her neck.

"I'm scared, Gi. But, if I do end up dying tonight, which I seriously hope I don't, I want you to avenge me by _slowly_ and _painfully_ killing Zayn and Stan. If I survive, I'll do the honors myself," Louis whispered into her neck, before turning to face his so called mates. "Also, I'm going to steal your girlfriend. I like her and I don't like you," he directed to Zayn, hugging Gigi closer.

" _Hey!"_ Stan gasped, pouting at the younger as he put his hand over his heart. "It's not even our faults that you are going, it's Harry's. We are not responsible for this at all."

"But you're in no way helping the situation. You should be convincing him to stay, instead of telling him to go," Gigi pointed out, rubbing Louis' back.

"Yeah, what she said," Louis mumbled, grinning at Stan. "And if I die, Harry dies by default because I'm throwing him in front of me. I can't kill him twice. So, he is no longer in my options list. However, the next is you two, tied. See you in hell, twats."

"You are so bloody dramatic, Tomlinson. You are not going to die, twit, stop with the whining and grow a pair," Harry mocked from behind the group, hands crossed over his chest.

Louis quickly turned around to face the bloke, narrowing his eyes. "I hope you die first so I can have one last laugh."

Harry's shit eating grin only got wider as he stepped closer to the shorter boy in front of him. He looked down at Louis with piercing green eyes as he pulled him closer by the hips, moving his lips to the lad's ear. "You can't get rid of me that easily, baby," he smiled and nibbled on his earlobe before pulling away. Louis whined and shivered at the encounter, resulting in the widening of Harry's smirk. "Don't be scared, princess, I'll protect you." He winked.

Louis groaned, stepping back away from him with a grimace. "Git," he breathed out, glaring coldly at the taller. _Fuck Harry. Fuck him and his attractive body, his sexy voice, and his hot–, wait, no, no, no._

"It's 11:25. When are you two wankers going to grow a pair and go already?" Nick spoke from his seat on the large leather couch, nonchalantly putting his arm around the back of the blonde girl sitting next to him. She immediately cringed, pushed him away, and walked off.

"I don't think you should," Danielle commented, agreeing with Gigi.

Harry rolled his eyes at his mate then turned his attention back to Louis. "You might want to change out of those heels, kitten. I don't want to have to carry you the whole way because your little feet hurt too much."

"Don't tell me what to do, Styles," Louis scuffed, but got his Vans from Eleanor's bag. He sat on the carpet to slip them on his feet, before looking up at Harry through his lashes.

"Now, beautiful, since you have your comfy shoes on, can we get a move on?"

"My name is _Louis._ L-o-u-i-s. So. Either call me Louis or don't talk to me at all. I prefer the second," Louis snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Ok, so _maybe,_ just maybe he likes the pet names a tad, but there is no way he will ever admit that to Harry, because he will never be able to live it down.

"Feisty." The younger of the two laughed as he offered Louis a hand, raising an eyebrow at him. The teen sighed, not wanting to put up a fight anymore, so he took his hand. "Might want to tie them too," Harry suggested as he pulled Louis to his feet.

"I'm fine, _mum_ , I won't trip. I'm a big boy," Louis mumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Since when do you care?"

Harry shrugged. "If you say so. Also, I prefer daddy."

Louis groaned and removed his hand from Harry's grip, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "How 'bout ya quit ya flirting with me so we can get this shit over with?" He sassed as the pair made their way toward the front door, Harry behind Louis so he didn't bolt unexpectedly.

"Please be safe, lads," Gigi said when they passed, sighing. There was no use in trying to stop them. Men, always making idiotic decisions. Can't live with them, can't live without them.

"Be careful, lads! I really don't want to see on tomorrow's news that you are dead!" Liam said, biting his lip as he looked at the others nervously.

"They'll be fine," Niall assured lightly as the crowd of seven watched their two mates leave the safety of the house and enter out into the cold, mysterious Halloween night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! Here is Chapter 3 for you! It's more of a filler chapter, but in the future you will understand its placement and significance. ;) I hope you enjoyed! Please leave some kudos, comments, and don't forget to bookmark! Also, a trend of this story is every chapter is going to start out with a past death at the asylum, if you haven't noticed. -2017
> 
> originally posted in Summer 2017 with 1509 words  
> edited on June 25, 2018 with 1863 words
> 
> wattpad: prideinlou


	4. Chapter 4

The _Nottingham Evening Post_

 **CRAZED POP SINGER KILLS FELLOW PATIENT AT WARRINGTON PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL.**  
February 11, 1975

_by, Anderson Cooper_   
_independent journalist_

31 year old, Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson murdered 37 year old, Selena Marie Gomez last night at Warrington Psychiatric Hospital.

Both Hudson and Gomez were registered patients at Warrington, both admitted for clinical depression and alcohol addiction.

Hudson, known by fans as _Katy Perry,_ was the pop sensation of the early 70s. Her career was short lived, however, because in 1973, her ex-boyfriend, Orlando Bloom, wanted to bring her to Warrington for help when she attempted suicide by drug overdose for the third time in her apartment. She lashed out at him with a butcher knife, killing him with five stab wounds to the heart.

Gomez entered Warrington in 1971 after she was discovered to be behind the killings of neighborhood pets while intoxicated.

Hudson confessed to sneaking into Gomez's sleeping quarters and choking her to her slow, painful death. Hudson disclosed that her motive behind her execution of Gomez was simply personal hatred.

Gomez's therapist reports that she was doing much better. Her scheduled release was within the next few months.

> > > >  
October 31, 2017  
11:35 p.m.

Nervous would be an understatement.

Louis has never been more petrified in his entire 17 years of life. He completely regrets agreeing to this barmy dare, and he absolutely despises Harry. This is all that wankers fault, and Louis just happened to have been sucked into it all against his will.

Why did he even agree to go to that pointless party? He is never going to see his loving family or mates again. He is going to die tonight and Harry will be the only one to blame for it. His grave stone will read:

❝ **Here lies, Louis William Tomlinson.**  
 **24 December 2000** **–** **31 October 2017.**  
 **Beloved son, friend, and brother.**  
 **Died because Harry Styles is a fucking twit.** ❞

He attempted to run countless times, but every try ended the same way; with Harry's strong arms wrapping around his torso and carrying him forward to their destination for a few seconds, followed by a "Stop doing that, Tomlinson."

"If you would quit your constant whining and walk faster, then we could get this done already. It's not even that scary. You are just pathetically dramatic, keep it up and you could win an Oscar."

"Cut the "I'm all tough and strong" act, Styles. You know you are just as scared as I am, maybe even more. So, just quit the bad boy act, 'cause it isn't working for ya," Louis sneered, glaring over at the taller. "This is all your fault, anyway."

"You shouldn't have agreed to take the dare."

"Oh, sod off," Louis snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he angrily kicked a pebble off the sidewalk and onto the road. "I was plastered."

"Well, you're drunk stupidity got you here, sweetheart. Suck it up," said Harry, glaring at him.

"My drunk stupidly also brought you here, so I think that makes me a point ahead of you," Louis chuckled as they walked side by side. He rubbed his hands on his arms, shivering from the frigid air surrounding them. "I hate you, Styles. 'Ope you drop first."

"Feelings mutual."

11:46 p.m.

"Harry," Louis soon whispered, not even attempting to conceal the fear laced in his voice as he harshly bit his lip, enough to draw blood. "Can we, um, just forget about this and go back, _please_? Please, Harry. I'll do whatever. I'm terrified, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm scared, Harry, I admit it. I, Louis Tomlinson, am so, so scared right now. I'll write it out for you, seal it with my fucking blood. I really don't wanna do this."

Louis looked at Harry with wide eyes, fear swimming in the ocean blue. Louis watched as Harry's face seemed to change, into something almost _caring_ before it quickly went back to the cold, hard gaze it was before. "I appreciate the gesture, but no, we aren't turning back. If need be, I'll be at your side, because I'd rather not have to drag back your dead body. I'll protect you, Louis, trust me. We'll be fine." _Liar. You're lying._

"Promise?" Louis croaked, tone showing how vulnerable he is right now. "Promise we will be okay. Promise me, Harry. Fucking promise me we will make it back home okay." He begged. _Scream. Scream as loud as you can. Run. Don't trust him._

Harry visibly took a deep breath, licking his lips. "Promise." _He's lying. Don't believe him._

And something about his tone made Louis uneasy, but he had no choice but to hold onto the weak promise.

11:50 p.m.

The duo anxiously trekked down the narrow, gravel road at the end of Station Avenue; Brookfield Drive. Dense, towering forest surrounded them on both sides, essentially trapping them. They rounded a sharp corner and, there it was, Warrington. The towering, castle-like, boarded up building loomed at the far end of the elongated road in front of them like a warning. Lifeless, 30 foot trees outlined the gravel passage, standing tall across the dead, brown grass, once green. Hulking. Dilapidated. It seemed to be watching them, studying their every move from behind the wrought, rod iron gate.

Harry moved forward, slowly approaching the front gate. He examined the delicately etched designs throughly, brushing his finger trips over the elaborate calligraphic **_W_** in the iron. "Warrington," he remarked quietly, slowly nodding his head. Harry turned his attention to the older lad beside him, raising his eyebrow impatiently. "What are you waiting for, kitten? An invitation?"

"Harry," Louis gulped, staring at him with wide baby blues. "Please. We need to turn back. We shouldn't be here. I don't want to be the next Sivan and Oakley," he insisted, pointing to the ancient, rusted over NO TRESPASSING sign. "Let's go. It's locked anyway," he argued, gesturing to the three slightly modern padlocks enclosing the gate, along with the thick chains. "This was all banter until we actually not here. It's not fucking funny anymore, Harry. Drop it." Louis shook his head rapidly and tried to depart, not giving a fuck if Harry signs his death wish or not, but a rough hand wrapped itself around the back of his neck, causing him to halt.

"Let go of me, you fucking perv–" _Stop, Harry, please._

"No, Louis," Harry snapped, shoving him toward the barrier. Louis squeaked as he fell face first into the gate. "This shit is just here to scare off blokes like us. The chains are rusted and these locks are barely holding together," he inspected. Harry proved his statement correct when he removed the chain and all three corroded locks before shoving the gate open, cringing at the creak the oxidized iron gave off. "Let's go. I wanna peek at Woodlands first."

"But–" _Don't go with him._

"Don't fucking _but_ me, Louis. Grow a fucking pair," Harry shrugged halfheartedly and tsked, prior to physically forcing Louis through the now ajar gate.

12:00 a.m.

Louis never imagined that one simple building could look so threatening, but Warrington succeeded to do exactly that. The chilling, intimidating atmosphere followed the couple the entire walk up the driveway, Louis clinging to Harry's side like a magnet to metal. "Why the fuck are you making me do this? I know that we aren't exactly on good terms, but this is seriously bloody twisted, Harry. I'd never make you do something so fucked up. I'd never hold your biggest fears above your head like this. You are so fucked up."

"Your guilt tripping isn't working in your favor, just so you know. Rather you not embarrass yourself any further. It's just egging me on to find ways to scare the fuck out of you," Harry chuckled, putting a sickly sweet smile on display. Besides their iPhone flashlights, the only other light came from the luminous, full moon overhead.

"Harry, I'm fucking serious. This really isn't fucking funny anymore. Let me go, wanker."

Harry laughed manically, stroking his chin in thought, then shaking his head. "Actually, I think it's pretty fucking hilarious," he began. "Sorry, baby. No can do. We will leave after we explore for a bit, no harm in that. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back." He sealed his statement with a nod and pulled Louis down a clay path, which led to what appears to have once been Woodlands Park.

Rotting, over-grown grass littered the courtyard ahead, decaying trees fanning out every couple yards. Harry guided the smaller boy through the dense foliage overtaking the area, having to maneuver over countless dead, fallen trees. As they passed, Louis tensely shined his phone flashlight around, illuminating the decaying picnic tables and the old wooden swing set, connected to the fraying, brown braided rope on only one side. The gentle autumn breeze slightly swayed the broken swing seat, causing it to gradually scrape across the dirt.

 _Don't go over there._ "They had swings here?" Louis wondered, curiosity taking over his senses. He stopped in his tracks to get a proper look at the swing, lifting his hand to graze his fingertips over the rope, goosebumps rising to his skin as he touched the fibers.

"Mental patients were actual people, Lewis. Why shouldn't they be allowed time on the swings?

"You know that wasn't what I meant," Louis sighed, looking toward an irritated Harry. "Do you think people hung themselves from these ropes, Harry? Is that why this one swing is only connected to the cord on one side?... because someone took their life right here?" Louis wondered allowed, shivering immediately after he spoke the last question. He took a step back, sorrowfully glancing back down at the swing. "I'm so sorry. I hope you are able to rest in peace," he exhaled sadly before quickly moving to Harry, glancing over his shoulder when the swing squeaked. "I want to go. Now."

"Soon," Harry confirmed. _Liar._

Before long, the teens came upon a wooden bridge above a small, green algae saturated pond, with the only thing preventing them from falling being a threadbare polyester rope on either side of the walkway.

 _This isn't safe. Turn back._ Louis gulped as he peered over the side of the fog covered bridge, looking down at the leaf filled water below them. "I'm not crossing this bridge," he announced, turning to Harry, who was already making his careful journey across the unstable bridge. "Harry, quit being a twit, let's g–" Louis began before he let out a frightened shriek, eyes growing wide when he met the eyes of a young girl, no older than ten. There were no shoes on her feet, only two dirty socks, and a ripped teddy bear clutched in her hands. Her eyes were dilated,– in surprise, it seemed– a jagged scar slashed across her forehead, with no hair on her head. A torn hospital gown was all that kept her warm in the frigid air. A demonic grin took over her lips as she slowly, almost robotically, cocked her head to the side. She seemed almost... innocent, maybe even a little petrified, before her eyes turned black and her mouth opened in a scream, pointing a finger toward the way the boys had come. Blood seeped from her eye sockets, all of her teeth rotting in front of Louis' eyes before falling out of her mouth. She then disappeared as quickly as she appeared, into the heavy mist surrounding them.

"H-Harry!" Louis screamed. "S-stop! Stop, stop, stop! The-There is a– there is a girl! O-Over there, oh my God!" He whimpered, body trembling. The boy was unable to move from his spot on the dead grass, as if he had been glued there by fear, pointing toward where he had last seen the girl with a shaking hand.

Harry rolled his eyes hard, not even bothering to investigate Louis' claim. "Ooh, I'm _so_ scared!" He placed his hand over his heart with a fake gasp. "That's rubbish and you know it. So, I suggest you quit trying to scare me, it's not going to work. There isn't anything, or anyone, here but us, knob head. Let's go. It's a trick of the mind, if anything." _He's lying. She was there. Run._

"Harry, there is absolutely no- _fucking-_ way I'm crossing that bloody bridge. There was just a-a little girl there. At the end of the bridge. I don't like this, I don't like this," Louis rambled, gasping in shock because he _knows_ he just saw the girl's horrifying blackened eyes watching him from behind one of the lifeless trees. "I'm leaving."

"Oh, no you ain't," Harry laughed and walked back to the shaking boy and throwing him over his shoulder. The teen let out a piercing scream as he was carried across the bridge like a stubborn child. "See, baby? Not so bad, huh? You are just making shit up," Harry said as he placed the smaller boy back onto his feet.

Louis wanted to make a run for it, to get as far from this place as possible. The little voice in his head was nagging at him to bolt, and he should have the second his feet hit the ground, but it was like all the strength in his body was sucked up, and when he tried to move, he couldn't. So, he just latched onto Harry's side and nuzzled his face in the younger's broad chest.

"Look, there is a stone fence, 'means we are at the end of Woodlands. Relax. Now we can take a quick peek inside the ward then be on our merry way. Little princess Lou can be all bundled up with his stuffies in his mummy's arms," Harry smiled. _He's lying. Don't trust him. You can't trust him._

Louis chose not to reply, instead he stayed silent for a moment. He soon reluctantly lifted his head and looked around before gazing up at Harry. "I'm putting my full trust in you–" _Don't._ "– to get us, _me,_ out of here safely. Please don't take advantage of it," he begged. _He will._

Louis advanced toward the exit of the park with Harry, not missing the chill of a breath at the back of his neck, causing him to flinch– the hairs on his skin rising. He instinctively moved closer to Harry's warmth.

"Did you feel that?" Louis whispered, almost snapping his neck at how quickly he whipped his head over his shoulder.

Nothing.

"It was probably just the wind, relax," came the annoyed reply. _It wasn't. Don't trust him._

The duo passed through an eerie area, endless rows of numbered plaques in the dry soil. Graves. Hundreds. _Thousands._ All with no name, no recognition to the one under the stone. Just numbers.

"Oh, these poor people, 'Az," Louis sobbed, pressing his lips together as he looked up at Harry. "They didn't deserve this," he said, mostly to the taller lad, wanting him to agree.

"Shit happens."

Louis gasped. " 'Arry! You cannot be serious right now. You have no heart. These people were just bloody buried here, like they meant nothing, with no recognition of who they once were."

"Okay, Louis."

Once again, they were greeted by the intimidating stance of Warrington Psychiatric Hospital. Now, beyond the gate, they were standing in front of the building, giving the two a full view of its crumbling structure.

Exposed, mahogany bricks sheltered the institution, graffiti littering the once clinker bricks. Plywood boarded up the majority of Warrington's vast windows, although some were left uncovered, revealing the broken glass.

If you didn't know that this place was once an operating lunatic clinic back in the 1980s, it would be assumed that the property was an ancient castle from the 1800s, where the richest of the rich would converse over a steaming mug of British tea with million dollar paintings lining the walls where the King and Queen would walk.

Warrington presents itself as an ordinary abandoned building, despite it's size, but that is just a taboo. The Warrington Insane Asylum has many secrets around every corner, just waiting to be discovered by an unlucky soul daring to enter into it's terrible past.

Louis and Harry stepped toward the entrance, examining the vicinity around them. " **Main Reception, Ward 2**." Louis read aloud with squinted eyes, pointing at a wooden board with fading white lettering on it.

Harry nodded in acknowledgment, letting out a soft hum before turning to the abandoned hospital looming tall in front of them. They soon approached a small enclosed walkway, their tattered tennis shoes scraping along the gravel beneath them.

"This was once a carpark. This is where all those people were dropped off to start their horrifying stay. Right here was where they all took their one last breath of freedom," Louis spoke up, gently caressing the brick of the structure as more goosebumps covered his exposed skin. "Do you wonder if they ever got out? Did they ever get their sense of freedom back?" He asked the younger, accent thick with the guilt he felt for these people.

Harry snorted with an eye roll. "I don't care."

"You cannot be _that_ fucking heartless, Harry. They were people, just like you and me, some even as young as us. Some of these people were in school. Some had jobs. Some had dreams. Some had their future all planned. They didn't deserve to be locked up because of other people's standards. No one deserves to die in a place where they have no freedom, no sense of reality. No matter what they did to get themselves here. They were caged up _humans_ , treated like animals... caged up until they passed. You are sick if that doesn't break your heart," Louis responded.

"It's _terrible_ , Louis, it really is. But, none of that is my problem right now. We can pay our respects on our way out, will that make you happy?"

"Very."

"Great! Thank fuck. Now, can we continue? I'm sick of your bitching. I want to look around for a bit and quite frankly, I'm fed up with your stalling."

"I am _not_ stalling, 'Arry! These people are apart of the history of this place, they deserve to be spoken about like the humans they are, not some dangerous animals. They deserve justice for what they had to go through."

"Alright, Lewis. I agree with you, 'hundred percent. Let's chat about it later. Weren't _you_ the one complaining about dying and here you are trying to keep us here longer? Hypocrisy at it's finest, hmm?" Harry pointed out with a raise of his eyebrows before advancing toward the entrance, hidden behind a tangle of outgrown vines. "Let's go, princess," he smiled. The door finally gave under his push with a groan, swinging inward on tight hinges. "Don't be scared," Harry chuckled before entering into the murky, pitch-black quarters, the only evidence of his presence inside being the dim glow of the flashlight.

"Harry, wait!" called Louis, who was still outside with worry clouding his features, shining his light in the direction Harty stalked off a mere moment ago. He heard a _snap_ of a tree branch behind him and he leapt in his spot with a cry before taking off toward the diminishing glow of Harry's searchlight. "Harry!" the older shouted, turning the sharp corner of the never ending hallway and immediately running into a hard surface– a body. He yelped loudly, attempting to scramble to his feet.

The body underneath him snickered calmly. "Jesus fuck, Lou. You keep on calling for me then freak the fuck out when I arrive. Better get your priorities straight because I won't wait around for you forever, baby," Harry bantered, pulling the smaller teen up with him. He brushed off his jeans then grabbed his phone from where it had fallen on the torn, gray carpet under them.

"D-don't leave me a-alone like that ever, ever again, you w-w-wanker! Someone is following us, or-or something. I don't know. But there was something behind me," Louis stammered, trying to catch his breath while salty tears trickled down his icy, crimson cheeks.

Harry looked down at him, unamused. "Look, like I told you before, it's just your imagination playing a game with you. The only people here are us. This place is _not_ haunted. Now, if you are done overreacting, let's keep walking. I found the reception area. Maybe we can find the names of some of the old patients."

Louis stumbled forward with a scared whimper, flicking his iPhone around cautiously as they trekked toward a wide reception room. He was hoping to illuminate the area entirely to soothe his fear of the dark, but it deemed to be useless, since their lights were hardly enough to fight off the strong darkness engulfing them.

As the pair moved farther into the room, details slowly began to appear under their lights, which moved every which way in curiosity of what lurks in the twilight.

Stained black and white checkered tiles cover every square inch of the floor. Sections of the ceiling hanging limp in the stagnant air, some panels missing entirely, as if they completely vanished. Fragments of mold-covered plaster lie damp over the contaminated slabs beneath their feet. Cold water seeps through the windows, nursing the mildew on the once pale turquoise painted walls, now chipped and crumbling away as the decades pass on. A thick carpet of dust clings to the receptionist's low counter, where a primal phone and typewriter lay lifeless. Shards of glass, from the shattered overhead lights, scattered about, covering the surrounding area with the dangerous material. One wrong step, and the pain would only begin.

Moth-eaten newspapers and files are disorderly spread about, showing signs of whoever had been here last had left in a hurry– a set of nursing scrubs hanging over the side of a lonely IV stand. Four smashed monitors within the back broad of the desk near a control panel, a large empty spot where the fifth and sixth screens once resided in now full of cobwebs and dust bunnies the size of bowling balls.

A small desk fan sat confidently next to a broken computer monitor, it's three intact blades lethargically turning from the breeze seeping into the room through the glass-less windows. A voluminous codex is tucked under the bench, beneath a pile of more newspapers and dust, as if someone was attempting to hide its existence from view.

"I think that's one of those check-in book thingies," Harry explained when Louis pointed it out, crouching down after placing his phone down on the counter. He reached a hand into the shadow to retrieve the concealed treasure, choking on dust particles as he stood up tall.

"Don't do that, you twat! What if something bites you, huh? I don't want to take you to operating hospital tonight," Louis scolded, crossing his arms.

"I'm fine, _mum,_ and I still have my hand." To prove his point, Harry waved his hand in Louis' face. Grabbing his phone in one hand and the index in the other, the younger lad deliberately moved toward one of the torn cushioned benches fixed to the wall on the right– an array of obliterated vintage frames above them, hanging loosely on the peeling flower wallpaper. Harry maneuvered his flashlight as he skimmed through the worn, water damaged pages curiously, humming softly as he did. "Taylor Allison Swift, Shane Lee Yaw Dawson, Barack Hussein Obama, Tana Marie Mongeau," he read allowed.

A high-pitched, feminine scream shook him from his thoughts, causing him to jump in his spot and look up, only to be greeted by a frightened Louis. Honestly, this boy could win an Oscar for "The Most Dramatic." Harry would definitely pay to see the boy on a Broadway show, maybe then he'd be able to put his drama to use.

"There are bloody rats in here, 'Arry! Big ones! Mother fucker!" Louis rushed out as he sprinted over to the side of the room Harry currently resided in, almost losing his balance as he attempted to crawl his entire body onto Harry's lap. Yeah, he hates Harry, but the younger is his only protection from the scary creatures that lurk in the night, so he'll deal with confiding in the teen for now.

"Oh, sod off, Louis. It's just a fucking rat. Grow a pair, will ya?" Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as he shoved Louis off his lap forcefully. The older fell hard on his bum with a _thud_ that echoed through the room.

"It wanted me as a snack, 'Az! I could see the hunger in his beady eyes! Protect me," Louis insisted, yelping when he saw the rat moving toward him at lightning speed. He quickly scrambled to his feet and leapt onto the bench beside the younger, curling into his side. Louis tightly screwed his eyes shut, shakily breathing in through his nose to relax. Harry smells like vanilla, weed, and beer. It's a strange combination, for sure, but it brought Louis a sense of protection– as if no one could hurt him as long as he was at Harry's side. "You had your look around, yeah? Can we _please_ leave n–"

And that moment was when he heard it. So distinctive. It seemed to echo through the entire room like an alarm, like a signal to run. A shiver shot up his spine, every hair on his body standing up tall in fear of the noise.

A laugh.

Coming from the shadows of where they had entered a few moments ago.

Louis immediately stopped speaking, slamming his hand against his mouth to prevent a whimper from slipping through his parted lips. He had never imagined a laugh could be so threatening, so bloodcurdling. It was just a sound, yet it caused fear to bubble through him like never before. He felt nauseous, dizzy. They were being followed. Something has been watching them this entire time from afar. Something was always there. And now this thing was right here, right in front of them, making their presence known. A warning. They had made a horrible mistake coming here.

Everything began to go in slow motion, as if movie directors were trying to bring up the suspense in their new film. Louis warily lifted his head from Harry's chest with his mouth ajar. He looked up at the younger to see him already staring straight ahead with a fearful glint in his emerald green eyes. The book slipped from Harry's lap painstakingly slow, falling onto the tile below them with a _thump._

The teens abruptly stood up, blood cold as the laugh repeated, louder this time. Closer. Right behind them.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," Louis mewled, hastily reaching for Harry's hand and squeezing tightly, both their knuckles turning white. His eyes were wide with uneasiness, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Someone, some _thing_ is out there.

"Fuck," was all Harry whispered before the two bolted toward the exit, following the path they walked minutes before. Their light making rapidly moving pools of white as they staggered toward the door the entered the building through.

"Harry!" the older gasped as he tripped over an object in his path. He landed on his chest with a distressed wail, sobbing uncontrollably, looking every which way as he attempted to get back on his feet. He could feel the presence behind him, the scratch of nails on the walls at both sides of him. He gasped as the air was being sucked from his lungs, crying loudly.

"Fucking hell! Lou!" Harry yelled and moved toward him briskly, pushing the smaller lad to his feet, physically shoving him to the door.

Louis reached out his shaking hand for the knob, all the color draining from his face on the spot.

_Locked._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this took a while to write but I'm kinda proud of it so. I hope you all enjoyed!  
> Couple FYIs/things to keep in mind: 1. Harry is a dick throughout most of this story. 2. This entire visit to Warrington takes place in the fall at midnight, so everything is pitch black. The only way they can illuminate their surroundings is with two iphone flashlights, remember that when you try to picture what is happening. 3. Both Louis and Harry are 17.  
> I'd be greatly appreciated if you left kudos and comments to tell me what you think! xx / Jessica
> 
> Disclaimer: I've never taken a step inside an abandoned building of any sorts, especially not a mental asylum. All of my descriptions and knowledge come from pictures, articles, and descriptives other people have come up with. Everything has been put into my own words and changed to how I wish to see Warrington. I feel terrible for bringing up the past of those who have suffered through countles articles I have saved and looked through throughly. I hope they all rest in peace.
> 
> originally posted in July 2017 with 4070 words  
> edited on June 25, 2018 with 4672 words
> 
> wattpad: prideinlou


	5. Chapter 5

The _Daily News_

 **RACISM DRIVES PATIENT MURDER IN WARRINGTON HOSPITAL**  
July 01, 1961

by, Tamron Hall  
 _American journalist_

56 year old Doctor Donald John Trump brutally killed patient Barack Hussein Obama this morning in Warrington Psychiatric Hospital in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, England.

Trump confessed to following 45 year old Obama into the hospital restrooms and smashing his head against one of the sinks repeatedly, crushing his scull within seconds.

Although Obama died almost instantly, Dr. Trump proceeded to beat the man while yelling racial slurs until stand-by guards heard the commotion during their patrol of the hallways.

Trump had been a doctor for the criminally insane for over 20 years. He had worked at Pennhurst State School and Hospital in Chester County, Pennsylvania for nine years before being fired for "racial discrimination against black patients." It had seemed that his racial hatred had diminished, however, reports from black patients at Warrington say that Dr. Trump had been throwing slurs at them, but no proof was provided.

In 1959, Obama was brought into Warrington for treatment when he poisoned his neighbors, the Clinton's, and their family pets.

Trump had been Obama's doctor since Dr. John Fitzgerald Kennedy retired five months ago.

Dr. Trump's trial will be held in August of this year.

> > > >  
1:41 a.m.

_Locked._

No, no, this can't be, not here, not today, not with Harry.

Louis choked out a painful sob, wiggled the door knob relentlessly, his grip on the antique brass knob so rigid that his knuckles turned a ghostly shade of white. "Please, _please_."

Harry came up behind him and attempted to open the door himself. No use. The door did not budge this time under Harry's harsh shoving. "Fucking hell." _Being around him isn't safe, you need to get away from him._

"This is all your fault, you-you bloody wanka!" Louis boomed, his feminine voice raising an octave as he pointed a shaking but accusing finger at Harry with a hard glare. Salty tears soaked his cheeks, covering his mouth. "I'm going to fucking die and it's all your fault! I hate you. I-I hate you, Har–" He turned to the side and threw up onto the tile floor, holding onto the door.

Harry rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. "Maybe if you didn't drink like my alcoholic father this wouldn't be happening."

Louis coughed, glaring at him after whipping his mouth. "Prick, I fucking hate you so much. I hope you get killed first so I can get that one last burst of joy." he exclaimed, voice echoing through the abandoned hallway.

"Holy fuck, I get it, okay? You hate me _so much_ blah blah, whatever. Bitching about it won't get us out of here, will it?" Harry snapped at the older teen in front of him, massaging his temples. Besides their heavy breathing, the entire area was silent. "There is probably another exit on the other end of this place, alright? We will go find it and get the fuck out of here to fucking shut you up. God, you are so fucking annoying. No wonder you haven't gotten laid since Aiden, you are so bitchy no one wants to get in bed with you."

Louis wiped away the tears in his eyes. "Fuck you, Harry, don't fucking bring up Aiden, alright? You fucking took my boyfriend and all you do is rub it in my face. I don't want to talk about him or anything other than the fact that we are currently stuck in his fucking place with presumably no way out." He said, looking around with fear and anger pulsing through his veins.

"Relax, princess, don't get your panties in a twist. Rubbing it in your face brings me so much joy, just like being in bed with me brought him so much joy. I definitely fucked him well, since he came back for more. You're fat ass wasn't enough to pleasure him, sweets." Harry snickered.

Louis felt heavy breathing on the back of his neck and he turned around so fast he fell back, gasping as he braced for impact. What he didn't expect was for Harry to be holding him up. Louis squeaked when Harry brought him to his feet roughly, stumbling forward until he regained his balance. He glared at the bloke, clutching his phone tightly in his small hand.

"Fuck you, Harry. _Fuck. You."_ He snapped, looking down at his phone. "I'm calling the police, Niall, Stan, the president of the United States, Hitler, Elvis, the fucking Beetles, I don't care– anyone to get me out of here," Louis states, dialing _999_ with trembling fingers, only to realize the call wasn't going through. **NO SERVICE** read the white letters on the top lefthand corner of his iPhone. _Fuck._ "God fucking damn it!" He cried, repeatedly pressing the green phone button, hoping that one of these times, the phone would start dialing the imputed number. "This is all your fault," Louis repeated, screaming as he hit Harry in the chest. _Get away from him while you can. Run._

Harry grabbed the boy's thin wrist easily, raising his eyebrows challengingly, twisting the older's arms. Louis whimpered and forcibly pulled from Harry's painful hold, rubbing the sensitive skin of his wrists.

"I wanna go home, _alive._ Not in a body bag, jackarse."

"They don't bring dead bodies home, love, they go straight to the morgue. So, I can assure you that you will not, under any circumstances, go to your house in a body bag. Scouts honor."

"Oh, you know what I mean, fucker. Stop being a twit."

"I'm not being a twit, be more specific next time, kitten, so people can understand what you mean," Harry grinned, stepping closer to the shorter lad, all traces of fear gone and replaced with his usual cockiness and pride. "How about you quit the yapping so we can go find that other exit, sound good to you?"

"Whatever."

> > > >  
2:03 a.m.

"I thought you said we're going to find the exit, Harry," Louis grumbled as the pair made their way down another long, dark hallway. Their flashlights shined in every direction to get a glimpse of what hides within.

Peeling, tan wallpaper lined the walls, crumbling on the red, tile floors beneath them. Dusty and dark, with nothing more than a ghostly silhouette of some previous existence. It's been decades since a footstep echoed through the walls, since nurses rushed around the property and the working therapists began sessions to aid in the care of their patients. Stale air breathed through the area, an undeniable sense of death lingering.

Doors began to appear on both their left and right, every yard or so, with soft moonlight from the skylights penetrated the dark hallway.

"We are," Harry shrugged, stopping in his tracks to enter one of the many rooms after noticing that the door is ajar. "We're just taking the longer route, no biggie."

"Harry," Louis whined, rushing to follow him inside. "We really shouldn't be in here. We need to get out of here, now," he weakly demanded.

"The door's literally open! They're just begging for me to go in!"

The room was painted a bright, neon green, a pristine dust layer covering the walls. Some of the wall had been hastily ripped off, exposing the brick underneath. Dirt, leaves, and remnants of the ceiling piled on the gray stone floor, moldy and forgotten. Against the wall was a single sliding window, open, allowing a gust of wind to enter. A discarded and broken wheelchair sat in the middle of the office, one of the spoke wheels spinning ever so slightly, as if it had just been moved to this location.

"Styles, someone was in here," Louis mewled, gripping the other's bicep tightly, nails creating crescent-shaped marks in the younger's white skin.

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring him as he looked around, peering out of the open window with furrowed brows before leaving Louis behind in the room.

" _Run_ ," came a whisper, causing Louis to chuckle nervously as he examined the broken drawers in a teal cabinet labeled First Aid. 

"Ha ha ha, hilarious, Harry. Stop playing around," the teen rolled his eyes as he turned on his heels and flashed the light around the room. No one.

He's alone.

"Harry, seriously, this isn't fucking funny, stop," he said louder, only to receive no response from the accused. Louis swallowed thickly before bolting from the chamber, fresh tears building up as he searched for his companion. Soon, Louis found him in another location and attached onto him tightly.

"What the fuck, Lewis?" Harry snapped, shoving Louis off harshly as he studied the contents of the place.

The room was much darker than the last. All four walls were painted a midnight blue, cracks and chips throughout the aged paint. Paper stars suspended over each wall along with at least two dozen frames, housing old drawers, which seemed to have been done by various children. Each one was neatly signed in the bottom right hand corner of the drawing paper. The art ranged from a family in front of a house, to a dog, with every color of the rainbow pack of Crayons used, except one. This picture was done in all black. It illustrated a young girl with long hair laying on a bed, and at the end of the bed stood a figure with no face, appearing to be watching the sleeping girl.

Louis shivered at the sight in front of him, glancing at the artist's signature, _Millie Bobby Brown_ , done in perfect cursive. A frown took over his features as he turned to Harry. "Th-there is someone in here, I don't fucking like it, so let's go."

"Wh-wha-what? Is-is it a-a-a g-ghost?" Harry stuttered before bursting into a fit of laughter, holding his stomach. "Fuck, my chest hurts." He wheezed, coughing before rummaging through the draws of the desk located in the far left corner. "No one is here with us, and this place isn't haunted, grow a pair. There are no such thing as ghosts, princess."

"Well, that's easy for you to say, innit?" Louis raised his voice, walking over to Harry. "They don't seem to be targeting you! This is all your fault!"

"I think this was an office of some sort," Harry mumbled, ignoring the teen as he picked up a stack of papers. He hoisted himself up onto the wooden desktop and read through the pile with a hum, not acknowledging the older boy standing in front of him with his arms crossed.

"Stop avoiding me!" Louis demanded, flicking his fringe from in front of his eyes, phone gripped tightly in his other hand.

"Maybe they like pretty boys in short skirts," Harry commented with a shrug, glancing at him through his lashes.

"Fuck you, Harry."

"Sorry to rain on your parade, but I top, so I'd gladly fuck you. I think right here would be pretty fun... put on a show for all the ghosts, hm? I bet they haven't seen some good porno in _ages._ " Harry smirked, dropping his feet to the floor and setting the papers side, backing Louis up against the wall then kissing at his neck. "You probably have a public sex kink, yeah? Might want to add getting fucked in front of ghosts in abandoned hospitals to that long list, don't you think, baby?" He continued, nibbling on Louis' jaw.

"S-sod off, Styles," Louis gasped, swallowing a moan as he shoved Harry off of him, dropping his phone in the process. He groaned, and reached down to grab it, putting it in his pocket with the flashlight still on.

"You know you want me, baby boy, and all the ghosts know too, you are so obvious," the latter chuckled, planting both hands on the wall behind Louis' head and kissing him harshly.

Louis whined in the back of his throat. He pressing his palms to Harry's chest while his eyes fluttered shut unintentionally, lips slowly moving in the kiss. Once he realized what he was doing, he pushed Harry away which caused the taller to stumble back.

"I-I cannot believe that we are trapped in here like r-rats and your first priority is to get in my pants! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Louis shook his head, cheeks a deep red, matching the new color of his lips.

"Everything, sugar plum," Harry hummed, shoving the files into his torn rucksack.

"Stop with the fucking pet names, prick. And where did you get that from?" Louis questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Found it," replied the other.

"You _found_ it and just decided it would be a good idea to take it?"

"That would be correct."

Louis rolled his eyes, following Harry out of the room.

Harry led the pair down a short hallway where they reached a large, decaying spiral staircase. The wood caved in underneath piles of dirt and debris. An area in the wall laid open and exposed, the termite eaten wooden beams barely holding up behind the drywall.

Louis took a peak inside the opening from one of the more sturdy steps, shrieking when a group of rats charged at him.

Harry snorted. "Relax, baby, it's just a couple of harmless rats. Let's go, I'm sure these stairs can hold us up just fine."

There was no time to argue before the younger forced Louis up the stairs to the floor above. Louis gripped onto him like a vice as he looked in every direction, shining his light over the wall to his left. Graffiti littered the white paint, as well as smudged, red fingerprint streaks– blood.

"Harry, is that, ah, blood?" Louis whimpered, staring at Harry with fear blown pupils.

"Probably," Harry said nonchalantly. Louis let out a heartbreaking sob as they climbed to the last step.

There was a loud creek, followed by a low grumble before the staircase below collapsed to a mountain of dust and crumbled wood.

"Well, there goes that," Harry shrugged as Louis observed the staircase turning into an ocean of rubbish, tightly gripping onto the metal railing.

"Oh my God," whispered the older, his mouth forming into a small 'o' shape. "We were just on that," he said as he proceeded to lift his trembling hands from the metal. As his hands left the cool surface, he noticed another dry bloody hand print staining the casting under him. He screamed out in terror, throwing his hands up with such force that he was sent tumbling back to the edge of the stair less area."Harry!" he cried, gripping onto the railing to prevent falling backwards, face paling as he watched his phone plummet 11 feet below and crash. His left foot slipped and he screamed, tightly shutting his eyes.

Reluctantly, strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him to a safer area. "Maybe, just _maybe,_ if you followed me rather than get distracted, you wouldn't have almost fucking died," mumbled Harry with an annoyed sigh.

"You... you are such a prick," Louis hiccuped, his head spinning as he slapped the younger across the cheek, sure to leave a mark. His body trembled with uneasiness as he hugged himself, taking deep breaths. "M-my phone– fuck... I– I... I almost– Harry, I don't– I–," a string of words flowed from his parted lips before he dropped to the stone floor below, everything switching to black.

> > > >

When Louis came to, he blinked slowly and sat up, taking in his surroundings. The room was almost bare, besides the rubble and loose papers. One un-boarded window resided on the wall in front of him, allowing in soft beams of moonlight. Thousands of dust particles danced and swirled in the minimal light, causing him to wheeze and cough. Flaking speckles of paint and dust bunnies lined the destroyed tile floor beneath him, corpses of rats and other creatures laying around. Cobwebs hung off the corners of the walls, their owners no where insight. The state of the room gave it more of a creepy and claustrophobic vibe than the last.

Louis shivered and attempted to stand. But, he couldn't. He glanced down and noticed straps buckled tightly over his ankles, waist, and wrists on a ripped, red cushion chair in the middle of the cell. He let out a loud scream, the booming sound echoing through his head, causing him to groan in agony. His struggles only increased the unbearable pain shooting through his entire body and his fear only made him more frantic. His attempts to escape his confinements resulted in blood pooling on his wrists from where the rusted shackles held him down. He whimpered, kicking his feet against the tile.

"Hello, Louis," purred a voice from behind him, snickering as it breathed hotly down Louis' neck. Louis knows that deep voice, that stupid, cocky tone; Harry.

"Harry? Help me. What's... what's going on?"

Harry only chuckled before he moved into Louis' line of sight, illuminated by the shafts of light. "I'm here to take care of you." He wore a surgical mask along with a white doctor's coat–stained with blood. Cracked spectacles rested on his nose as he stared down at Louis with dark eyes. Harry rolled a stainless steel tray in front of the older boy, revealing to him the instruments placed upon it. A scalpel, a clamp, illuminating drills, and a hypodermic needle.

Louis choked out a broken sob and screamed again, closing his eyes tightly and begging for Harry to leave him alone.

" _Louis_!"

"No-no, stop, stop, please, don't hurt me," the boy pleaded, shaking his head, kicking his legs against the tile.

"Louis, for fucks sake, if I was gonna hurt you I would've done it by now."

Louis hesitantly peeked open one eye and was met by the silhouette of Harry. However, this Harry was no longer wearing a doctor's lab coat. This Harry was clad in his police officer Halloween costume from the party earlier that night. There was no tray of instruments, no blood, and no straps or shackles. It was like he imagined it all.

"You done flipping your shit?" Harry mumbled, pulling the older to his feet.

"Wh-what happened?" Louis asked anxiously, pulling away from him, looking at him with fearful blue eyes. His eyes trailed down to his wrists, noticing no blood on the tan skin but the pain still lingered. He whimpered, rubbing at them.

"You passed out and quite frankly, I didn't want to lug your fat ass around while I'm trying to look," said Harry with a shrug, going back to his previous spot on the ledge of the large window, skimming through a stack of papers.

"I-I fucking passed out and you care more about exploring than making sure I'm okay? I could've died, Harry!"

"Sadly, you didn't, so..."

Louis hugged himself close as he observed Harry for a few moments from afar to ensure that Harry is 100% _not_ a lunatic doctor trying to experiment on him. How did he imagine it all? It felt so real. The _pain_ felt so read, the blood was there, on his skin. Maybe Harry is right, his brain _is_ playing tricks on him.

He sighed shakily and soon stepped closer to the younger, peering over his shoulder. The pile of papers Harry had found appear to be newspapers, release dates ranging from the early 40s to mid 80s. All of the tiles on the front page somehow related to Warrington:

** TEEN GIRL FOUND DEAD IN WOODLANDS PARK. ** ****

** WARRINGTON– CURING THE INSANE, OR CREATING THEM? ** ****

** WHAT IS LURKING BEHIND THE WALLS OF WARRINGTON PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL? ** ****

** MORE THAN 400 ANONYMOUS BODIES FOUND BURIED AT WARRINGTON ASYLUM. ** ****

** PATIENTS AT WARRINGTON BRUTALLY BEATEN AND TORTURED. ** ****

** ELECTROSHOCK? THE NEW THERAPY "CURING" LUNATICS AT WARRINGTON PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL.  **

And there were dozens more, all obtaining to deaths and or secrets about the practices taking place at Warrington.

"These sickos collected souvenirs of the fucked up shit they did?" Louis whispered, wide eyed as he read over every headline, the words replaying through his mind like a broken record. _Dead_ , _insane_ , _bodies_ , _beaten_ , _tortured_ , _electroshock._ This is only the information the public managed to get their hands on, so, what secrets about Warrington are still buried?

"I guess so," Harry replied with a nod, looking over at Louis. "It's pretty fucked up, innit? I wonder if there is any pictures."

" _Pictures_? You are on a whole new level of fucked up, Harry!" Louis shouted, backing away. "I can't believe you'd want to _see_ the torture these poor souls went through," he sighed, patting his pockets for his phone. "Harry?" He soon spoke up, interrupting Harry from his reading. "Where is my phone?"

"Oh, yeah, you um, said something about dropping it," the younger shrugged, not turning to look at him. "... I think. I dunno, I usually block you out, a lot of blah blah blah."

" _Dropping it_? Oh my God, Harry, where did I drop it? That's my fucking flashlight!"

"Over the edge of the now nonexistent staircase."

"Fuck, I need to get it," Louis said. "Let's go, arsehole. You're helping me," he added, grabbing Harry's bicep.

The man chuckled. "Sorry, baby, I'm not falling fifteen feet to my death so little Lou can have his phone back," he spoke, slipping the newspapers into his rucksack. Harry raised an eyebrow at the older, "guess you'll have to stop wondering off and stay with me, since I'm your walking flashlight now." He winked

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."

"Feelings mutual. _Now_ , let's go, pretty, there are more hidden gems to find before we get out of here," Harry smirked as he glanced down at Louis, eyes jet black. Louis gasped and stepped back, blinking repeatedly. "What now?" Groaned the younger, eyes once again green. His brain really is fucking with him.

"Nothing... nothing," Louis assured weakly, but Harry seemed to buy it, pulling Louis out of the room and back into the hallway, shining his flashlight into the darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Only a couple chapters left! xx / Jessica
> 
> originally posted in July 2017 with 3565 words  
> edited on June 25, 2018 with 3646 words


	6. Chapter 6

The _Daily News_ Online

 **SUICIDE OR MURDER? NEW BODY FOUND DEAD AT WARRINGTON HOSPITAL**  
November 13, 1982

by, Barbara Walters  
 _journalist_

29 year old Shane Lee Dawson committed suicide Monday morning at Holmes Chapel's own, Warrington Psychiatric Hospital.

Back in 1980, Dawson murdered his therapist, Doctor Angelina Jolie, during one of his weekly evaluations. After being proven guilty of first degree murder under Judge Cowell, Dawson was sent into solitary confinement at Warrington, which, overall, doctors believe made him turn toward suicidal behavior.

Dawson was found with a belt of a straitjacket around his neck inside his cell by Nurse Steve Aoki, who was bringing him breakfast. He had no pulse, and was presumed dead on scene.

However, doctors at Warrington refuse to disclose information obtaining to Dawson's treatment.

[video]

Interviewer: ❝Excuse me, sir, you currently work at Warrington Hospital, is that correct?❞

Doctor, _with his face blurred_ : ❝Yes, ma'am, I do.❞

Interviewer: ❝Wonderful. Is it true that solitary confinement wasn't Shane Dawson's only inflicted punishment for the murder of Dr. Jolie back in 1980? Rumors say electroshock therapy and neglect where involved. Security cameras show that Nurse Aoki was not bringing Dawson breakfast, but medicine, and that he was only given a meal per day, rather than the required three. It is also claimed that Dawson was murdered, and it was made to appear as a suicide so Warrington could not be blamed or sued. Is that correct?❞

Doctor: ❝No further comment! *Beep* off! Leave me alone before I call my lawyers!❞

[end of video]

The autopsy report shows bruising throughout Dawson's body as well as burns on the bottoms of his feet and the insides of his thighs.

To this day, there has been over thirty reported deaths obtaining to Warrington.

The question is, _how many more are there?_

 _> > > >_  
November 1, 2017  
2:13 a.m.

"I tried calling both of 'em, still no answer," Liam mumbled, nibbling on his nails nervously as he looked around at the group in front of him. "This isn't good."

It had been over two hours since the two daring teens had ventured out to Warrington Insane Asylum. Now, after two a.m., the group of eight stationed in Ed's living room, anxiously waiting for their two mates returns. Preferably alive and breathing.

"If this is anything like the Oakley/Sivan case from the 80s, they are royally fucked," Niall commented, pressing _call_ on Louis' contact and lifting his phone to his ear– straight to voicemail.

"Not helping, Niall," Gigi sneered, hiding her face in Zayn's shoulder. "Call them again."

"Well, they are the wankers who went with it, too far up on their own high horses to just not go," Nick interjected, not looking up from his phone.

"You fucking encouraged them, div!" Liam snapped, rubbing his temples, getting up again to check out the window for the duo.

"Li, checking a thousand times won't make them suddenly appear," Ed spoke as he put some red Solo cups into a black trash bag. "You should all head home, get some rest, they are probably just fine." He added, patting Liam's shoulder. "Preferably before my parents get home."

Liam sighed. "Yeah, yeah we will soon, thanks Ed," he whispered, peering out the window again.

"Shut up, Nick, no one likes you," Stan murmured.

"This seriously isn't fucking good, lads, we have to go see if they are okay," Eleanor said in a worried tone. "Louis is my best mate, there is no way I am going to let him slip away from me because of some idiotic dare. _God_ , boys are so fucking stupid."

Nick shot Stan a glare then turned toward Liam, who was sitting down with his head in his hands. "To be politically correct, I encouraged Tomlinson, I'd fucking _love_ to see that prick drop dead. I can't loose Harry, I haven't gotten him to fall in love with me yet."

Niall snorted. "You are so fucking stupid, Grimshit, get over yourself. Harry has no interest in you, what so fucking ever. No offense to your gigantic fucking ego."

"Well, damn, I thought Tomlinshaw would one day resurrect from the dead and become a real, healthy love story. Now I owe Zayn 30 pounds, thanks lads," Stan pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Holy fuck, can you lads be serious for five _fucking_ minutes, _please_?" Danielle spoke up. "You are all fucking children, our mate's lives are on the line and all you divs want to do banter about Nick and his sad life."

" _Hey_ –"

Zayn stood up. "We all need to relax, yeah? They will be fine. They are our boys, stubborn and persistent. There is no way they are going to go without a fight. They will be alright," Zayn promised, trying not to let his voice waver with worry, "I just know they will."

> > > >  
2:59 a.m.

"Fuck you, Harry."

"Go ahead."

"Shut up."

"You started it, baby."

"Sod off, prick.

"You wouldn't like it if I took you up on that, Lewis, now that you don't have your precious phone with you."

"Shut up."

Harry snickered in triumph, leading Louis through the eerie hallways of Warrington, stopping every now and then to explore rooms that sparked his interest – meaning, all of them.

Louis couldn't erase the thoughts from his head. The shackles, the blood, the pain, _Harry._ It all had felt so real. He couldn't shake the grim feeling that it _was_ real, and that where he is right now is the dream. Maybe, right at this moment, Harry, the crazed doctor is experimenting on him, and his brain is creating all of this to help him cope the excruciating pain he is going through. It may not be the best coping mechanism, but it's something, and if that is what's actually happening, then he hopes he never, _ever_ wakes up. He always wanted to die in his sleep anyway.

"Wait," Harry gasped. Louis looked away from an old drawing of the human body and turned to the younger.

"What now? Did you find an Ouija board? Are you going to suck ghost dick for some info?" Louis mumbled, shivering at the burst of cold taking over the compact office they currently searched. Turns out, this office belongs to one of the wardens; Warden Brooks.

"Sod off, Tomlinson. And, the only one getting on his knees would be you," Harry rolled his eyes, brushing his fingers across a crack on the wall in front of him before turning to face the other. "I found something, c'mere."

Louis reluctantly stepped toward Harry as he reached around the back of the last filing cabinet in the row, gripping the edge. "What are you doing?"

"Help me pull this out," Harry said, licking his lips determinedly.

 _"Ooh_ , so, _now_ Mr. Big, Bad, and Independent needs my help? Call the media, this story would make headlines," Louis sassed, shaking his head stubbornly.

"How about you get your head out of your fat ass for five fucking seconds and help me move this fucking cabinet?"

"'Kay. One, two, three, four, five– done! Can I put my head back in my ass now? Or do you need another five?"

"Fuck you, Lewis," Harry hissed and heaved. The cabinet groaned and eased forward, exposing a keyhole. "Holy shit. I think this is a door. Let's find the key."

"There is no way in _hell_ I'm going into whatever the fuck is behind that door."

"Don't bite your tongue," Harry commented, cautiously looking around the office.

"You know, telling me I can't makes me want too so much more."

Out of the corner of his eye, Louis spotted a small, metal object near the edge of another file cabinet, as if it had been haphazardly dropped and forgotten about. A key. _The_ key. Louis swallowed thickly, glancing over at his partner, whose back was facing him. He quickly scooped up the key, shoving it into his pocket just as Harry turned around. There is no way Harry can see this key. What if it _does_ open the secret passage? He _cannot_ let Harry get his hands on it.

"What are you hiding?" Harry quizzed, stepping back toward the older, shining his flashlight at the pocket of Louis' HCCS hoodie, where the lad's hand was still in, gripping the key.

"Absolutely nothing. Are my hands not allowed to be cold all of a sudden? It's November in England, fucking ass o'clock in the morning so it's fucking cold, and my hands are freezing. Is that a problem, Prince Harry. Any other dumb accusations?" Louis snapped, attempting to keep his cool and hoping his nose wasn't growing to the size of Pinocchio's.

"What's in your hand, Louis?" Harry questioned, getting right up in the smaller lad's face as he backed him into the cabinet, breathing against Louis' lips.

"Nothing at the moment, but if you keep this up, the nearest heavy object will be," Louis sneered, trying not to coward under Harry's hard stare.

"Is that so, princess?" Harry grinned, reaching around to grab a handful of Louis' arse under his skirt, causing the older to yelp and drop the key into his pocket.

Louis shoved Harry away harshly, eyes wide with anger. "You-you slag!"

Harry snickered, stepping closer and taking the key from the hoodie pocket. "Thanks, baby," he smiled, going over to open the door.

Louis let out a high pitched scream and ran to Harry, punching him square in the jaw. "Don't _ever_ fucking dare touch me like that again, tosser. You hear me?" He snapped, anger pulsing through his veins. He didn't give two shits about that key anymore, but the fact that Harry had the nerve to touch him like that completely set him off. If he wasn't currently fearing for his life, he'd kick Harry's arse for laying a finger on him like that. "What the fuck is your problem? When did I give you permission to touch me like that, prick!"

Harry shook his head, completely unfazed by the attack. He didn't flitch, or even acknowledge the blow to his jaw. "Whatever," he shrugged, putting the key into the lock and twisting, removing it before shoving the hidden door open.

"Fuck you, Harry, fuck you, fuck you," Louis whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. This is all too overwhelming for one night. Out of all nights, Halloween. Out of all people, Harry. Out of all places, an abandoned mental hospital. What did he do for the gods to induce this onto him?

Harry examined the narrow passageway, grinning when he noticed the dark stairwell. "Bingo," he sang, turning to Louis. "Let's go."

" _No_."

"Suit yourself. Stay here all alone. Don't come crying when the ghosts arrive to have their way with you," Harry hummed casually, carefully taking the stairs down, testing each decaying step with his full weight before proceeding.

Louis whimpered as another gust of cold air made his skin crawl. He glanced over at the single window– closed with no cracks. There is no way he is staying here himself, no matter how much of an asshole Harry is, and no matter how much his pride means to him. "Wait!" He called out into the darkness and carefully followed Harry down, wrinkling his nose at the moldy smell. His brain says turn and run as fast as your legs can carry you, but his body has other ideas.

"Hurry the fuck up, Louis!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Louis breathed, praying to every god out there as he walked down the tight, spiral staircase. The stairs ended abruptly into a narrow corridor, where Harry stood impatiently, shining his flashlight at Louis' feet.

"You're coming just from my voice? No foreplay or actual fucking needed? That's hot," Harry said monotony, continuing on. Louis decided against commenting, choosing to save his breath, following closely as the passage pressed in on them, making him feel like he couldn't breathe.

"Did I mention I'm claustrophobic?" Louis spoke up, gripping onto Harry's forearm.

"Guess it's time to get over it."

Doors soon began appearing as the hallway widened before them. Harry drew up in front of one, **_ROOM 107_** , opened the door and inched inside, shining his flashlight into the darkness.

Louis gulped, following Harry inside when he heard a low groan from behind him.

Both the floor and walls of the cell were made of a heavy gray stone. A rusted over operating table stood in the middle of the room, a drain beneath it, next to one of the legs. A small window which brought light into the gruesome room was covered by metal bars. A bloody pair of shackles were bolted to the wall on the left, illuminated by the moonlight. The entire room looked straight out of a movie scene, but the thing that made Louis pinch himself is that this is not a movie scene, that he is not watching a horror movie marathon with Niall and Zayn; that this is real life.

Louis felt weak as he looked around, hugging himself while Harry toured the cell with his cell phone light with complete composure. "I don't want to be in here," he announced softly, looking at Harry through his wet eyelashes, trying not to burst into tears again.

"Then wait outside," Harry heartlessly suggested, hoisting himself up onto the table, causing the ripped white sheet covering the metal to rustle.

"You shouldn't be on that, Harry," Louis told him, his eyes wide and fearful. He felt completely powerless. It seemed that no matter what Harry did or where Harry went, he would follow willingly. He did not feel like himself. The Louis he knew would stubbornly fight until he got his way, but this Louis had no fight left in him. Was he even Louis anymore?

"I thought you were leaving," Harry groaned, pushing past him as he left the room, leading them further down the corridor.

Louis followed him, looking around at their surroundings cautiously. The duo soon entered into a communal restroom. Along the left side of the tan tiled wall were a row of eight sinks, two empty soap dispensers placed in between three large mirrors. Only one of the three mirrors was completely intact, while the other two were cracked and missing large chunks of glass. At the end of the long room were six stalls, with over half of them missing a door as well as five showers. Mold grew in the cracks of the restroom, with piles of broken tile, decaying wall, and dust littering the floor.

Louis stopped in front of a sink, glancing at himself in the non-cracked mirror, taking in his features. Dust and cobwebs created a hat on top of his hair; his eyes were wide and bloodshot, pupils blown to such an extent that only a ring of blue remained. His lips were bitten raw, peeling skin and blood covering them, not a bit of red lipstick remaining. He frowned at his reflection, turning the knob on the sink to test if there is any running water, only to come up empty. The pipes groaned and squeaked, but nothing happened.

Louis licked his lips and turned around to the last place he saw Harry, only for no one to be there– no evidence that anyone was there at all. He looked about nervously as it dawned on him that he is alone. No Harry in sight.

"Harry?" He called out, turning back toward the mirror, sucking in a breath. Just as he did, a bloody face appeared behind him in the glass, giving Louis a lopsided grin as blood trickled down from the large gash on his forehead.

Louis let out a horrified screech, bolting out the door at the end of the restroom as fast as his body would allow. Someone, _something_ was always there, watching him, watching _them._ "Harry?" He cried, whipping his head back and forth to look around the unfamiliar hallway.

He choked out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut. He's lost. His head spun as he frantically checked rooms for a sign of the curly haired lad. He heard a voice and looked over his shoulder, only to slam into a wall. "Ow!" He cried, feeling the cut on his head. "Fuck." Louis struggled to stand up, and when he did, he came face to face with his reflection in a large wall length mirror.

Louis let out another sob as he watched his reflection laugh at him, before it's eyes turned black and it's teeth began to fall from it's mouth. His hair turned gray and his face hollowed before his skin began to peel back to reveal his bones. He screamed, but it was cut off as a hand wrapped around his neck and squeezed.

" _We got you."_

Louis kicked and screamed, falling to the floor. "Harry!" He shouted, shaking his head rapidly. He jumped to his feet and forced his body to keep searching.

"Harry?" He tried again, peering into another office at the end of the hall to see Harry's tall figure within the darkness. Louis choked out a sob, attacking the younger lad in a hug. "It-it was so-so dark, th-the mirror, a man, I-I– blood, everywhere, I– Harry I can't breathe, I couldn't breath, my– help me, Harry–" he whimpered, pulling away to touch his face and neck.

Harry slowly turned to face the older and Louis looked up, completely ready to cover the lad's face in grateful kisses, but he was met with the sight of the faceless man. Louis shrieked at the top of his lungs, stumbling back and falling flat on his bum.

"Why? Why _? Help me!"_ Louis sobbed, shaking his head. "Someone _please!"_

"I got you, Lou," Harry spoke, reaching out his hand. Louis shook his head, sobbing uncontrollably, kicking his feet to keep the man away. "I'm not gonna hurt you, stop being a dramatic prat," He sighed, pulling the older to his feet.

Louis stepped back, glancing up to meet Harry's piercing green eyes, pink lips, and oddly shaped nose. "I just– you didn't– I..." he tried, looking down at his hands to see not a trace of blood. He ran over to the window and looked at himself in the pale reflection. No blood and no cuts. He awkwardly smiled to see all of his teeth perfectly in place behind the white braces and poked at his rosy cheeks.

"It's your mind playing tricks on you, relax. You are okay, there is no blood, no mirror man. None of it is real. Listen, I'm sorry I grabbed your bum and fucked off, I thought you were behind me. I ended up getting lost myself," Harry said, rubbing the older's back before going back to examining the desk. "That apology was a one time thing, ask me to repeat it ever and I will just deny it." He stated, rummaging through the drawers.

Louis let out a shaky breath before turning on his heals to face Harry. "Wait, I never told you it was in the mirror–"

"This was Warden Maxwell's office," Harry interrupted, skimming through a journal before putting it into his rucksack for later. "Sick! You think these were 'is?" He asked, picking up a pair of broken spectacles and slipping them on, turning to Louis.

Louis gasped when he saw the spectacles, immediately realizing they were the ones Harry wore in his hallucination. "I-I've seem those before," he whispered.

"It's probably 'cause they kinda look like yours," Harry hummed, going back to looking through the contents of Warden Maxwell's office, glasses still perched on his nose as he did so.

Louis slapped them off Harry's face, watching them snap in two against the tile floor, the remaining glass shattering about. "Louis, what the actual fuck!" Harry snapped, glaring at Louis. "You were the one blabbing on and _on_ about the history of this fucking place and now _you're_ the one disrespecting it!"

Louis bit his lip, looking into Harry's eyes, fear evident in his own. Why has he seen those _exact_ spectacles before? Why were they in his hallucination before he even knew they existed? Why was _Harry_ wearing them? "It's just– those glasses– I-I mean no disrespect but–"

"Whatever, it doesn't really matter. I have his journal. Let's go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an fyi, I know Halloween is an American holiday but just let it be celebrated in England for the AU. xx / Jessica
> 
> wattpad: prideinlou
> 
> originally posted in August 2017 with 3258 words  
> edited on June 26, 2018 with 3398 words
> 
> THE EDITING PHASE OF THIS FIC IS F I N A L L Y COMPLETE! IM PROUD TO ANNOUNCE I WILL BEGIN TO WRITE INSANE ONCE AGAIN! ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read a/n at the end!

The _News Chronicle_

 **FIRST TO BE FOUND DEAD IN WARRINGTON ASYLUM**  
July 19, 1937

_by Diane Sawyer,_  
_journalist and investigator._

37 year old Justin Drew Bieber first to found dead within the walls of Warrington Psychiatric Hospital.

Warrington Psychiatric Hospital was built in 1930 by Dr. Michael Warring, with the sole purpose of treating the mentally ill and criminally insane. Starting in 1934, Warrington began this practice, housing the ill, both men and women, with the intention of curing them.

Bieber was admitted into Warrington three months after operations began. He had been recently found guilty of the murders of five young children in Holmes Chapel and surrounding areas. These children, between the ages of five and eleven, were sexually abused by Bieber then brutally killed with only a knife, before being dumped in Dane Meadow. He was caught by 89 year old, Betty White, a Holmes Chapel resident who recognized the killers face from The _Daily News._

For over two years of it's operations, the heavily populated asylum appeared to be running smoothly with no reported deaths or incidents until Nurse Ariana Grande frantically contacted newly introduced emergency call telephone service, _9-9-9,_ claiming to have found the lifeless body of Bieber in his holding cell the morning of July 19th.

After careful examination by Doctor Marilyn Monroe of Park Villa Hospital, she provided that Bieber overdosed on Sargon pills. However, no one working at Warrington during his time of death can conclude where and how he got the pills.

Doctors and therapists refuse to take responsibility for Bieber's suicide. They claim that his guilt and depression were the causes of his break.

Dr. Grande resigned from her job shortly after finding the body. She refuses to disclose any information obtaining to the death.

> > > >  
3:41 a.m.

Louis bit his lip as he followed Harry down the hallway, keeping his eyes trained on their feet. When he looked up, however, a gasp left his parted lips. Pain immediately rushed to his head as he watched the walls close in. He began to cough, struggling to properly breathe. Tears trailed down his pink cheeks as he stared forward, the ringing in his ears intensifying.

"Harry," he choked out, shaking his head. He managed to glance to the side, just to find that Harry wasn't there, and that he once again missed what was happening to him.

"Don't throw a fit, baby. Daddy's here," Harry chuckled, poking his head out of the door to Louis' left. "Maybe if you opened your eyes, you would've heard when I told you I was coming in here."

Louis swallowed thickly and ran into the room with the younger.

This room was small. The tan wall paper was peeling off, falling onto the stone floor like autumn leaves. The only furniture piece in the area was an antique bookcase. Most of the shelves were broken, and only a few books remained.

"These fuckers must've thought they were so fucking slick," Harry laughed before he pulled at the bookcase, revealing a door. "Who knows whatever else they have hidden," he smirked and opened the door, walking into the hall.

Louis whined. "You are the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met," he mumbled, looking behind him with a gulp before following.

"That's what Aiden said," Harry grinned, passing the empty cells. Louis moved quickly to keep up with the teen, turning into the small cell Harry went into.

"Why do you always gotta bring him up?" Louis snapped, shaking his head. "This is between me and you. Not me, you, _and_ Aiden."

"That would be a hot threesome," Harry winked, shining his flashlight around the room.

Louis shivered at the atmosphere behind the rusted metal door. The first thing he noticed was the writing on the tile wall.

❝ **I NEVER KNEW MUCH**  
**ABOUT PEOPLE**  
**UNTIL I TOOK ONE APART...**  
**JUST TO SEE**  
**HOW IT WORKS** ❞

"Oh my god..."

"Relax. It's not like he wants to see how you work," Harry rolled his eyes, taking a look at the chains on the metal bed frame.

The light above them flickered before exploding, glass floating down like snow. Louis shrieked and jumped back to avoid the shower, covering his body.

"Maybe I was wrong," Harry snickered. "He _does_ want to take you apart, princess. I guess he likes to do it in the dark."

Louis whimpered in fear as Harry pulled him to his feet.

As they passed by rooms, Harry would take a quick looks inside. One room, however, caught Louis' eye. A single gurney was up against the back wall. Near it, was a series of tally marks as well as:

❝ **IT WAS MORE FUN IN HELL** ❞

"267," Harry concluded, turning to the older. "267 tally marks."

Louis sucked in a breath, nodding slowly. 267 weeks? 267 days? Was this person released... or did they die within these walls?

Louis was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed Harry had left. He followed the lad into another room. This office had two bookcases with a large desk in front of it. Two dust covered chairs laid unused in the corner, cobwebs and debris alike blanketing them. The victorian fabric was destroyed, rips and tears much like those from the claws of a monster. On one of the shelves was a collection of dolls and toys. Eyes missing, with faces burned or removed, it seemed like they were watching his every move.

Louis shivered, glancing at the window by the chairs to see that it was closed. He whimpered as the chill in the room increased. The teen went to stand next to Harry, who was leaning against the graffiti covered wall, looking in a folder.

"What's that?" Louis asked, attempting to peer over his shoulder.

"Some sick photos these fuckers had layin' around, wanna see?"

In the teens hand was a pile of faded photographs. Louis examined each image as Harry looked through the stack.

One had a tall man wearing a long, white coat, spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose. Louis took a deep breath as the hallucination once again resurfaced.

The next had a young patient struggling against the hold of two orderlies in white aprons. His mouth was open in a scream as a nurse stabbed a syringe into his neck.

Another had a placid woman with leather bounds across her chest and forehead, while a muzzle was being attached to her.

One photograph was of a young girl, no older than ten, with a gag in her mouth. Beside her was a metal gurney, covered in the proper tools to perform a lobotomy. A doctor stood above her, a sinister smile upon his lips as he brushed his fingers through her half shaved hair.

The next photo was the same girl. This time, a large gash was noticeable on her forehead, even with her blonde hair growing back in. She was naked and being forced into a bathtub of ice water. She had been struggling, but it did none to help.

There was one where a man in his late 20s was on the ground of a padded cell, the belt of a straitjacket wrapped tightly around his neck. Blood dripped from his opened eyes, and his hands were grabbing at the belt, trying to grant air to his lungs. On the bottom left corner, neatly in pen was **SHANE DAWSON— 13 NOV 1982**.

A few more after all revolved around, dead bodies, with names and dates of death written in perfect cursive.

Harry found one with five rows of nurses in clean aprons and masks, neatly posed. Some of the faces, however, were violently scratched out. The photo was dated 1949.

"What the actual fuck? Why are you looking at these? That's disgusting, you sick fuck," Louis gasped, covering his mouth with his palm and backing away.

"Hey, I'm not the one who took them. I'm just the one looking at them," Harry reasoned. raising an eyebrow at the scared teen.

"That doesn't make you any better, prick," Louis said angrily, shaking his head. "That's sick. So many poor individuals lost their lives here and you have the nerve to laugh at them? You have so many issues, Harry. You are just as fucked up as the arseholes who put these innocent people through hell. I'm beginning to think you belong here." He snapped, walking over to the bookcases. "Every fucking book here probably describes how to kill someone. Every toy probably belonged to some innocent child that was locked up here against their will. Tortured, hurt, and broken. You are beyond fucked if you find this funny." Louis' rant was cut short as he looked over the shelf of toys. Right in the center of the dust was a clear square, no object insight. Something was recently moved from this area. Even a day left uncovered would have dust littering an empty spot of the shelf. This was very recent. Someone is here.

Louis swallowed thickly, looking at Harry, who was still examining the pictures. "Listen. Someone is here, I-"

Harry rolled his eyes, slipping the folder into his rucksack. "You are _still_ on that bullshit, Louis? Bloody hell, you are a persistent pain in the arse. Just another thing to add to the list of why you haven't gotten laid. I should've brought Niall, he doesn't have his head up _his_ ass all the damn time like _you_ do! Live a little! So fucking what if someone is here! It's not the first person to see you in a miniskirt, crying. Aidan's definitely seen _that_. Stop making shit up to try and convince me to leave, because you're just wasting your breath. We've survived most of the night, you can wait until sunrise _or_ you can find your own way out, _alone_." Harry spit, shaking his head and leaving the room.

Louis rubbed the back of his neck and followed Harry back into the hallway. "Please, don't leave me, I-"

That's when he heard it.

Slow and menacing, the song began to play.

The two teens nervously toward the sound. Upon the stone floor was a small music box, directly under the overhead light. The music seemed to get louder as it flowed through the room. The tiny ballerina danced, her entire face burnt to blackness. The box began to melt before their eyes, fire taking over the toy, and the ballerina screamed in terror as the music got slower. Dying. It rang in their ears like a broken record.

"Oh-oh my God– that-that wasn't–" Louis croaked, grabbing onto Harry's sleeve. "Harry," he whimpered.

"Yeah– _fuck_." Harry whispered, looking over at Louis, who was trembling, covering his mouth with his dainty hand as he cried. "We should–"

" _Run_ ," finished a whisper, causing hair to stand up on the backs of their necks.

"You heard 'em!" Harry agreed, grabbing Louis' arm and pulling him back down the long hallway. Although they were running, it felt as if their movements slowed down the further they got. Once again, Louis watched the walls cave in and he sobbed, trying to run as fast as his legs would allow.

The music continued to get louder and more taunting as they passed. The screaming intensified as the fire spread, taking over the hallway.

The older sped up as he saw the bookcase door was still wide open, a sense of relief flooding him. However, his sense of safety immediately diminished when the door slammed shut, locking them in.

"No, no, no!" Louis cried, pushing at the door. " _Please_ , _no_ , help us!"

The ceiling lights began to explode one by one, sparks flying about and making the fire at the end the hallway grow. Now, darkness coated them, with only the orange glow of death. Within, a laugh rang. The horrifying song continued, deafening Louis' ears.

"Louis?" Harry said from beside him.

Louis shook his head, letting out another sob. "Yeah?" He whimpered, turning to face the younger teen.

Black eyes stared back at him while a grin spread across the creatures face.

"You shouldn't have trusted me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> published on: July 8, 2018 with 2,019 words
> 
> GUYS OH MY GOD, ONE CHAPTER LEFT! But, until then you have to deal with this cliffhanger.


	8. The End

The _Daily News_ Online

 **WARRINGTON PSYCHIATRIC**  
 **HOSPITAL CLOSED ITS DOORS**  
 **FOR GOOD**  
September 21, 1984

by, Barbara Walters  
 _journalist_

After 50 years in operation, Warrington Psychiatric Hospital has closed its doors. Built in 1930 by Doctor Michael Warring, Warrington began treating the criminally insane in 1934.

Known as Warrington Insane Asylum, the hospital treated mentally ill citizens to "keep them off the streets." In this mindset, the patients were treated as animals rather than human beings. Each patient was given a number, and that is how they were viewed during their stay. While some managed to escape Doctor Warring's clutches, others lived out their lives in the cells.

Over 40 deaths have been reported in Warrington, with the most recent being August 29, when eight year old Noah Schnapp was found raped and murdered in a community shower.

[ _link_ to **EIGHT YEAR OLD**  
 **FOUND DEAD IN WARRINGTON** ]

Late yesterday morning, investigators Winona Ryder and Tom Hiddleston went to the once running hospital for an interview with Nurse Lauren Jauregui— who had been recently attacked by a patient— only to find the building hastily abandoned. The area and hospital were searched throughly, but no living patients were found. Along with 15 bodies of recently killed individuals, ranging from teenagers to the elderly, was a nursery room with three suffocated infants. Police and investigators came across a fenced in area in Woodlands Park which resided thousands of numbered graves.

[ _link_ to **SECRETS OF WARRINGTON: UNCOVERED** ]

News that the faculty is closed came as a relief to Holmes Chapel residences.

Two important questions remain: Why did they leave, and _who were they running from_?

> > > >

Louis screamed.

He abruptly sat up in the stiff, lumpy bed. His eyes examined the room, head pounding and heart beating out of his rib cage. His attention turned to the IV attached to his pale, clammy skin before examining the area. Fear rose in his chest and his breath quickened. The beeping of the machine immediately picked up, alerting the sleeping figures in the rigid chairs.

"Louis, mate, thought ya' fookin' died out there! Bloody 'ell, had us all jumpin' in 'r bones watchin' ya fall like 'at! Ye mum–"

"Holy fuck, Ni, let him breathe," Zayn snapped, shutting the Irish lad up. He rubbed his eyes, standing and walking over to the frightened teen. "You're alright, Lou, I'm here, yer mum is here, and Niall's here. You're okay... breathe."

Louis' eyes widened and he shrieked, jumping back from his touch. "G-get the fuck away from me! You aren't real! You aren't real!" He sobbed, throwing one of the flattened pillows at the pair. "Fuck off, fuck off! I don't know who-who the fuck you are, or-or what you want to do to me, but leave me alone! Get away from me!" He screamed, thrashing in the bed.

"Lou-"

Nurses immediately rushed in at the sounds, holding down the startled lad as the struggled against their hold. He sobbed, pleading for his life, begging to be left alone. He knows he shouldn't have trusted Harry, but he doesn't want to die, and he'd do anything to save himself.

"I wanna go home, _please._ Tell Harry to let me go," he cried. "I'll do anything to get out of here!"

"Sh, it's alright, it's okay," one of the nurses soothed in a calming voice. "Your mum is here, with all your sisters and friends. Would you like me to bring her in?"

Louis sobbed, shaking his head, kicking out his leg and letting out a shriek. "That's not her! Let me go!"

The door opened and a middle aged woman rushed in, moving to her son's side. "Sh, sh, baby, it's okay, everything is okay." She whispered, brushing her fingers through Louis' sweaty fringe, hoping to calm him down. It's been years since she'd had to comfort the boy over a nightmare, he always insisted that he's a big boy, and he's strong, but now she can see how weak her only son is, and how he needs her.

"Mummy," Louis croaked, falling into his mother's embrace, letting tears flow down his flushed cheeks. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head.

"Lou, look at us," Zayn spoke as calmly after a short while, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, sighing when Louis slightly flinched. "I have absolutely no fucking clue what you are goin' on about, but, as you were leaving with Harry to go to Warrington, you tripped over your own shoe laces, you drunk fuck." He laughed weakly, grinning. "We all love you, Tommo, but maybe you should've done as Harry said and tied them _before_ you attempted to walk down the porch steps, div."

Louis couldn't help the giggle that slipped past his lips. "So-so you're saying all of that was a dream? Everything? We never went into Warrington? We never got trapped? Harry didn't–"

Zayn shook his head as Niall walked to stand next to him. "Nope, you fuckin' tripped on yer own shoe laces, ya cunt. Be more careful next time, so we don't all have a premature heart attack! Ya had all of us worried, Tommo, even H! He sobbed like a mother fuckin' baby! You should've seen 'em! Begged to the Gods above that ye were okay! Never seen that cunt cry before, it had us all shocked as 'e was huggin' ya to his chest, babblin' about how ye shouldv'e just tied yer fuckin' shoes," Niall laughed, patting Louis' shoulder.

Louis smiled slightly, allowing more laughs to flow. Soon, he was doubled over laughing, holding onto his chest.

He remembered it all.

The shoes.

He remembers happily switching out of the tall black stilettos, replacing them with his comfortable Vans. He remembers his conversation with Harry. He remembers Harry telling him to tie his shoes, and the two of them walking out of Ed Sheeran's house. He remembers tripping over the white laces, falling onto the concrete path two steps below, and Harry shouting for someone to call an ambulance. He remembers his head pounding, and his ears ringing. He remembers hearing the sound of the loud sirens through the fog in his ears. He remembers getting lifted into the truck, with a bigger, warmer hand holding his.

Louis took a deep breath, glancing at the three around him, giving them a weak smile. "I should've fucking tied my laces," He breathed out, causing his two best mates to chuckle.

"Language, boobear," Jay sighed, pulling Louis back into her arms. Here is the Louis they all knew, the one that would make every horrible situation somehow funny. The one that brought light into everything. No matter what he had seen while he was unconscious, no matter what his mind made up, he was okay.

"Sorry to ruin the moment, but let him get some rest now, yeah? Mrs. Deakin, can I talk to you outside?" The blonde nurse said, a clipboard in her hands along with X-Ray scans. "Relax some, Louis. You will be released later today."

"What time is it?" Louis questioned as he examined the colorful bruising on his forehead, gently touching the stitches as he looked at himself in Zayn's phone camera.

"1:03 a.m. Happy November 1st." Replied Zayn with a nod, pocketing his phone when Louis handed it back.

"The last time I saw you lads it was October, that's fookin' wild," Louis joked, glancing at his friends.

Zayn rolled his eyes, pulling Louis into his arms. "If you want to talk about it all, I'm here to listen, okay? I know you are trying to block it out right now, but I'm here."

Louis pulled away, smiling gently. "Thanks Zee."

Niall was next to hug the lad, then Jay. "We will be right outside if you need anything," Jay confirmed before the light was turned off and the door was shut.

"I'm okay," Louis said into the darkness, allowing himself to smile. "I'm okay. It was a dream. I tripped. My shoes were untied and I tripped." He laughed, rubbing his eyes. Nightmare Harry was right, his brain made it all up. "I'm safe."

" _Well_ , _you're safe with me_ ," Came a blood-curdling whisper, then a loud laugh, ringing through the room.

He knew that voice.

He tried to turn the lamp on the table beside him, but it was too late. Around him, the wallpaper began to curl, falling onto the linoleum floor in clumps. The overhead lights exploded, flickering as glass rained down, blanketing the bed. The windows shattered and the curtains blew back as a gust of wind chilled the room. Blood dripped from the holes in the ceiling, staining everything in it's path. The once white bedding turned brown with debris and the frames fell off the walls, bugs crawling out from under the broken glass.

Beside him, green eyes shone through the darkness, a lopsided grin taking over the creatures face. Illuminated by the moonlight, were the spectacles and the worn journal in the creatures blood-stained hands, a white lab coat hanging off broad shoulders. " _Miss me, kitten?_ "

Louis gulped, sucking in a breath. It was then when he decided he was done. He was done being afraid of Harry, he was done fearing what is to come. Because that's what gets this creature off– fear, and he isn't about to let this asshole win.

Pushing back all hesitation, he reached back to the side table, grabbing the broken lamp, gripping the stand in his hand. With white knuckles and a determined glint in his eye, he turned to the creature with a similar grin of his own.

"Bring it on."

> > >

"And that's a wrap! Brilliant, lads, absolutely _bril-i-ant_!" The director smiled, clapping his hands together. "Love the ending, _love_ the feeling. Played it so well, Tomlinson, couldn't ask for anyone better!" He announced, throwing his hands up. "Absolutely spectacular!"

Louis blushed under the praise, doing a slight bow. He glanced around at the studio, watching as assistants and staff scrambled to clean up the scene. Perrie Edwards and Jesy Nelson, his personal assistants, arrived with a mug of Yorkshire Tea and a plush rode. "Thanks, loves," he smiled gratefully, walking over to where his boyfriend was getting his makeup removed. "You did amazing, always do," he said, hugging the taller from behind.

" _Me?_ Baby, you did fucking spectacular! Simon wasn't exaggerating, you are the best actor I've ever met," Harry argued, thanking Lou Teasdale when she finished before getting out of the seat to face the older lad. "My little star." He gushed, pulling Louis in by his hips.

"Oh hush, you," Louis giggled, kissing Harry's nose. "I'm gonna go change out of this gown, 'ts itchy."

"I think you look great in it, shows off your legs," said the younger, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "It's easy to take off as well. A definite perk."

Louis rolled his eyes, turning on his heels. "I'm convinced you've had a permanent boner the past couple months."

"You're definitely going to incorporate skirts into your daily wardrobe, _right_?" Harry pleaded, moving in long strides to catch up to the smaller male.

He turned to look over his shoulder, smiling prettily at his beau. "Maybe."

" _Shit_."

"Oi! Lads!" Niall called, rushing down the hall with Zayn, Liam, and Stan close behind. "That was fuckin' awesome! Ye really are Britain's greatest actas!"

Louis giggled, wrapping his arm around Hary's waist and bringing his body close. "Britain's cutest couple, too," he pointed out, pulling Harry into a kiss.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Working with an actual couple is exhausting. I don't know how you horny cunts never fucked on set."

Harry pulled from the kiss, glancing at Stan. "It was hard, right, sugar plum honey bear?"

The other nodded, rubbing their noses together. "Right, sweet pea sugar lips."

Harry grinned, resting his hands on Louis' bum, giving it a squeeze.

"Oi, me innocent eyes," Niall gasped.

"Louis, truth or dare?" Harry smirked, giving his bum another squeeze, causing Louis to let out a quiet whimper.

"Dare."

"I dare you, dear Louis, to come in my dressing room so I can bend you over the table," He smiled innocently, watching as his boyfriend swallowed and his pupils dilated.

"Oh my God, remind me to never, ever film with these horny fucks ever again," Zayn sighed, mimicking putting a gun to his head and shooting.

The four watched as Harry lifted Louis up and brought the older into their shared dressing room. Once the door was shut, loud moans echoed through the room with Louis pressed against the white wood. He whined, tugging on Harry's hair, " _daddy!_ "

"Horny cunts, ya both are!" Niall called from the hallway.

The couple giggled as Harry set Louis down, keeping his arms around the thin waist.

"You drive me crazy," Louis smiled up at the taller man, reaching up to brush his hands through his long curls.

"Or should you say... _insane_?" Grinned the younger, squeezing his boyfriend's hip.

Louis laughed, rolling his eyes fondly. "Well then... you drive me absolutely _insane."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((((((SORRY ITS SO LATE! I PUBLISHED THIS LAST CHAPTER ON WATTPAD ON HALLOWEEN, BUT I LIKE TO FORGET THAT AO3 EXISTS, SORRY.))))
> 
> published (on wattpad) on October 30, 2018 and (on ao3) on November 16, 2018 with 2182 words
> 
> *ending credits role as dramatic music plays*  
> AND THERE SHE IS, BABY! AFTER SO, SO FUCKING LONG, SHE'S FINALLY HERE! I DON'T THINK I'VE EVER BEEN SO PROUD IN MY LIFE.
> 
> ABSOLUTELY I C O N I C!!
> 
> I love me.
> 
> Well, folks, that's the end of Insane. 
> 
> ALSO, THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL TO INSANE! I HAVE THE IDEA AND A COVER AND SOME THOUGHTS BUT THAT'S ABOUT IT BUT I KNOW Y'ALL WILL LOVE IT, SO MAKE SURE YOU CAN STILL GET ALERTS FOR THIS BOOK OR YOU FOLLOW ME, BECAUSE IDK WHEN I WILL POST IT!
> 
> I love you all so so so much, and thank you for reading and sticking with me through it all. From 2014 to 2018, she's finally perfect. Thank you.
> 
> This was Insane.


End file.
